Shackled
by kidneythieves
Summary: Set season 3- Emma & Hook duel out their feelings (emotionally & physically) for one another as they set out on the Jolly Roger to rescue Henry from Pan. Both are shackled by their idea of who they are suppose to be and what it means to love. Sexually graphic, smut with storyline.
1. Crossed Swords

**Set season 3- Emma & Hook are aboard the Jolly Roger in Neverland about to start their journey to rescue Henry. I have know idea where this will go story-wise, yet this idea for a chapter has been haunting me! So please read & hopefully enjoy. Comments & reviews would be lovely & appreciated! ;) **

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**Chapter 1: Crossed Swords**

Shoulders hunched, Emma slumped into the nearest chair by the window and stared out onto the street from the two story building. She watched from above the youthful looking boys gathered on the sidewalk, all with their sticks and fake swords battling one another. Her gut twisted angrily.

"Emma." A stern voice called from behind her. She rolled her gaze to the doorway of the library. It was the social worker who worked in their foster home. The woman's eyes were as stern as her voice. Her graying hair was twisted in a formal bun and she wore plain clothes—plain like her features. Yet Emma had a feeling that this woman's disappointed scowl would haunt her the rest of the day.

"We do not tolerate violence here. You know that." She said evenly. "You gave Zack a black eye. You're lucky that you didn't cause more damage."

Emma said nothing, simply returned her gaze to the street where the boys continued to do battle with their swords, even after she nearly stabbed one of their eyes out. She arched a contemptuous eyebrow. She should still be out there. Just because she was a girl didn't make her any less their equal. Half those idiots stabbed and poked each other with those crappy, hand-made sticks they had found in the park. And they had been perfectly happy with the idea of Emma joining their little gang of hooligans. But when they discovered that she too could fight with a sword, their opinions changed. It didn't help stabbing one of them either. Wimps.

"You'll remain here the rest of the afternoon. I suggest you think about you're behavior, Emma. Maybe you might find something interesting in here, rather than outside. Some reading may do you good."

Emma glanced over her shoulder to watch the social worker close the door and leave her in the foster care's shabby little library. She could hear their laughter of the boys below. Irritated, Emma stood and walked to the small bookshelf next to the kid's area. There were little plastic, colorful chairs for the kids and their finger-painted pictures decorating the walls. Remnants of orphaned children lingered in this room. Normally she avoided this place. Younger children were more adoptable than older ones, so want-to-be parents were in and out of this place constantly. But today was an off day and the room was empty, except for her.

Her eyes scanned the titles of the shelves. She was unimpressed by most of the children's books. Stories of love and happy endings, of families and hope. This wall of books was meant to inspire the children in the foster home—to give them a sense of meaning and purpose, so that one day they would believe they too would be adopted and loved. Emma however saw it for what it really was—lies.

Letting her fingers trail over the titles, she hovered over Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and finally stopping unexpectedly on Peter Pan. This story was vaguely familiar to her. She knew it didn't have any silly princesses looking for true love or any of that nonsense. She sighed, snagged the tattered book and returned to her window seat. She glanced outside for the boys and saw they had left, forgetting all about her.

A sharp sting of loneliness hit her. Emma swallowed a hard lump in her throat. Once more she was alone—abandoned. She may have never truly belonged with those boys, but at least she felt less alone.

Frowning, she snapped the book open on her lap and absently began turning the pages, attempting to take her mind from her feelings. Colorful pictures throughout the story captured her attention. Emma paused on the lush images of Neverland. A place filled with magic, adventures, creatures, and beauty. She wondered what it would be like to actually see a place like that.

She flipped the next page and paused. A sinister pirate glared up at her, his eyes painted a dark and malicious color, as if he could see inside her heart. The villain of the story… Captain Hook. He stood on the deck of a pirate ship, wearing a feather hat and a silver sword strapped to his hip. She eyed him curiously. His sharp hook glinted as he pointed off towards Neverland, telling his crew to find and hunt down Peter Pan. She continued flipping the pages, watching through the actions of the pictures as Peter Pan outsmarted Hook until their final battle at the very end of the story. Dagger against hook. Sword to sword.

Emma's mind raced. If she could fight like Hook, those boys outside would bow down to her in wonderment. They would not have abandoned her in the library. She read on, Peter Pan eventually won, but with the help of the Wendy and some silly fairy. But if they wouldn't have been there, she knew Hook would have defeated them. After all, he was a ruthless pirate who commanded his own ship and ruled the seas.

Feeling even more agitated, Emma tossed the book aside and returned her gaze out the window. The world suddenly felt like a formidable place to her. If a kid could defeat someone like Captain Hook, than what chance did she have in the real world? A world that had never been kind to her and at times, cruel. She knew when she reached 18 in seven years she would be kicked out of foster care and on her own for good. It was probably a good thing, she thought with a sigh. Leaning her head back, her long blond hair fell behind her as she curled up on the chair, the sun warming her skin.

She was better off alone—at least that was what she convinced herself of. Still, she longed for friends and companionship. Unfortunately life had seen it fit to shackle her to the role of orphan. Just as Captain Hook had been shackled to his hunt and revenge of Peter Pan. Emma glanced back to the discarded story on the floor. The book lay open to the face of Captain Hook and his vicious looking hooked hand and sword.

If life were as easy as a fairy tale then she may get a happy ending too one day. She rolled her eyes at the thought. Yeah, because her life had been so good up to now to make her believe she deserved some magical happy ending. She was better off seeing herself like Hook—at least then, she would know she had nothing to gain other than some tragic ending.

She dropped her head into her hand and stared at Captain Hook. Sunlight drifted through her hair and shadowed everything on the book except for his eyes. So maybe she should just become a villain? She smirked at the thought. Yeah, she could fight alongside Hook—fight the good fight and look out for only herself, because no one else would. Become a pirate, a drifter and never look back at her life here.

Feeling a bit better, Emma picked the book up once more and began reading the whole story—cover to cover. Too bad Captain Hook couldn't teach her how to swordfight, she thought with a small smile.

The memory of her time in foster care came back with startling clarity as Emma withdrew her actual sword from her belt and gripped it tight in her hand. The sun beat down on her back, the sounds of water lapping against the ship, and the feel of the wind at her face made this moment all the more real. The memory felt almost surreal now. She remembered wishing to someday fight with swords, duel with Captain Hook like in the story. Never in his wildest dreams did she think it would actually come true.

"Nervous, darling?" Captain Hook asked as he strode forward from below decks, his hooked hand looped around his belt, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his sea blue eyes.

Hook's drawling voice had her jolting slightly, straightening her back.

"No—why, should I be?"

"Not everyone voluntarily asks to duel a pirate, usually it comes out of necessity."

"You mean survival?"

He laughed softly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword on his black leather belt. Emma's gaze was drawn to it, to the long, tanned fingers, the wide back and the ring that stated who and what he was—pirate, villain. His hand fascinated her. He had touched her once, not gently, but potently when they fought before on the beach. There was strength in his touch that a woman could rely on, as well as fear. She wondered why at the moment she should feel only the first.

"I'm doing this for Henry. I want to get better with…" she gestured to her own sword. "This. I've been good so far—lucky even.

"Yes, I heard you killed a dragon. Rather impressive if I must say."

"But I need to be better than good." She retorted.

"And naturally you come to me instead of your father?" he asked curiously.

She paused, but decided there was no point in lying to him. "He's good… a good man and fighter. But you're... well…"

He arched a suspicious eyebrow.

"You're a pirate—you can teach me how to fight dirty if I have to."

His handsome expression turned seductive then. "I can teach you more than just how to fight dirty, love— other skills that we pirates are known for." His meaning wasn't lost to her. Nor was the shiver of anticipation that raced up her spine either.

Her heart was pounding in her throat and it was ridiculous. She wasn't subject to flights of fancy and wide swings of emotions. But somehow Hook stirred her up. There was just something about his devil may care attitude and swagger that caught her attention. Meet it head on, Emma advised herself. Meet it head on and push it aside. Now was not the time to get caught up in fleeting emotions, especially with Henry in danger.

But she couldn't deny the sizzling awareness between them. She felt it the moment she met him not so long ago.

She didn't respond to his flirt, instead said bitingly. "Don't call me love."

Hook gave her a devilish grin. "How 'bout this—if I win, I'll call you whatever I like. If you win, I'll stop calling you love."

"And darling, and beautiful and whatever else you come up with that's not my actual name. It's Emma—or Swan to you."

"Yes, well you seem to enjoy calling me Hook. But I wouldn't mind Killian every now and then, love."

She rolled her eyes. "Are we gonna talk all day Hook? Or are we going to fight?"

"I thought we were fighting," he said with a winking smirk.

"Not yet," and with that, Emma sprang forward, sword in hand.

A flare of excitement flashed in Hook's eyes as he too stepped forward fearlessly. Swords crossed, metal slid whistling down metal. Then the two began their dance with danger and fought.

The ripple of desire tightened his muscles. She stood before him as a woman on a mission—with passion and intent. Challenging him. He'd wanted her before. Now with his mouth drying up, he thirsted for her like a man stranded at sea.

He lunged, teasing her, testing her. She seemed to sense this immediately and took her first move towards him, extending her arm, blade upon blade. Impressed, Killian cooled his mind and attempted to focus. He preferred the attack. She seemed content with defensive maneuvers. She blocked and parried out of his attacks. She was good—better than she even knew. Nature prevented from using his full skill, but even as he held back, he realized she made for a formidable and exciting partner.

The slimming pants she wore distracted him with images of what moved so elegantly beneath. Her wrists were narrow, but her arms were strong and flexible, enough so to keep him at bay. But not for long—he moved in with a challenging clash of swords and for a moment they held there, swords crossed. He gazed cuttingly across her face and saw a flash of excitement in her eyes he had not seen before. And when he smiled lazily at this, she instantly chilled her expression and pushed back.

At times she was close enough to smell, her scent was dark and sweet, tantalizing the air around him. Emma Swan was a woman he wanted. Desire curled inside him as he realized he wanted her here and now. Their dance with swords showed him just a glimpse of what their passion could be if they shared a bed.

"I must confess…" He drawled out breathlessly. "I'm having difficulty concentrating on my own form when yours is so much more appealing."

Emma let out an irritable grunt and snapped back with a quick parry. "Stop flirting and take this seriously Hook."

"If you insist, beautiful."

Emma's dark eyes flared angrily. Abandoning her steady defensive tactics, she attacked at full force, catching him off guard. Within seconds, he felt the tip of her blade push into his shoulder. He lowered his sword instantly, acknowledging the hit.

"Well done, love. You've bested me." He said in surprise.

"It's Swan now, Hook."

"Ah, yes. Deals a deal. I will address you henceforth as Swan. As requested."

She lowered her sword and looked curiously as him before saying softly, "thanks."

He smiled slowly and stepped forward. He was close enough to hear her soft intake of breath.

"You may call me Killian. I prefer to hear my true name on your lips rather than the one that was bestowed upon me."

"I don't think so."

"Why not? Too—intimate, Swan?"

It was coming over her again, that ridiculous warm excitement whenever their eyes met and held. It was like a brewing storm. Water rising over her head, attempting to drown her. But she didn't move away like she should've. It was too late to prepare, too late to stem the feelings that rose up in her. He had a seductive pull that kept her shackled to him.

He slid his sword effortlessly into his belt and reached towards her, his fingers tangling in her blond hair, pulling her closer. Emma's grip tightened on the handle of the sword, afraid of what may happen if she finally surrendered to him.

"Is it so difficult to see me as more than just a villain? As flesh and blood?"

"No, I—yes." She couldn't seem to catch her breath. The salty sea air felt stifling.

"Say my name. Now." He demanded, pulling her close enough to taste.

His eyes were not dark and deep like the sea—rather a light startling blue like the sky above them. She'd never seen how blue his eyes were before, never allowed herself to. Now, as he drew closer, she could see nothing else.

"Killian." She breathed his name. Heat flowed through him like scorching lava.

"Again." His hooked hand reached behind her waist, drawing her to him.

"Killian," she whispered, then he pressed his mouth desperately to hers.

Her lips burned against his instantly, as he finally tasted their simmering heat for the first time. He gripped her tight, even as she tensed in his arms. He deepened his kiss, parting the seam of her soft lips with his tongue. She trembled and within that moment, opened her mouth for him. He let out a strangled groan, slipping his tongue inside her warmth, tasting her fully.

Emma's muscles had tensed, yet her heart hammered inside her chest. Killian kissed her like a man presented with a goddess. Flourishing her with passion and heat, ready to seduce her. And Emma wanted to be, oh dear God she wanted to be his. Her cool control began to slip between her fingers, as she suddenly realized how much she needed this. His mouth was open, urgent, as if he had waited all his life for this moment. She felt his fingers dig into her hair, holding her there as he devoured her. She trembled at the knowledge that she could be wanted so forcefully.

Finally, her control snapped and she plunged head first into their kiss, sword clanking loudly to the deck. She wrapped her arm around his neck and the other clung to his leather coat. He pulled his lips away just enough to whisper her name in a gasping breath and push once more inside her mouth with his delicious tongue. Their tongues danced as she fought for dominance and slipped her tongue inside his mouth. She whimpered as her insides melted and her body tingled with a surging sexual heat.

He tasted like she imagined he would—steamy tropics, hot sticky nights—aggressively sweet and spicy. Killian, Captain Hook, was a dangerous pirate that could ravish a woman with his mouth, and make her feel like a temptress. And somehow, being wrapped in his arms, she felt safe. That he would never harm her, never hurt her—someone she could trust with her body and her heart. Emma shivered at the thought, which Killian flamed as he kissed along her cheek, down her neck and suckling gentle kisses on her neck. Before she realized what she was doing, Emma slid her leg upwards, angling her hips towards his body.

He let out a growling moan against her neck as he pushed his arousal into her. She gasped, letting go of all control. She wanted to feel him, all of him. He rotated his hips forward, rocking into her own heat once more.

"Emma?" the lower deck door creaked open. "Honey? Where'd you run off to?"

Her mother's voice echoed on the deck. Head swimming, Emma leapt backwards from Hook's grasp and tried to catch her breath.

"I'm up here." She pressed a hand to her throat. "Did you need something?"

"I just wanted your help with dinner—can you come down for a few minutes?" she asked from the doorway, unseen from below and blissfully unaware of what she just interrupted.

"Yeah, I'll be right there." Emma responded and the door to below decks closed once more.

He stared at her. He'd nearly been lost, Killian thought. Lost in her, lost to her. What right did she have to make him aches and want and need? She was standing there now, silent, her eyes dark and huge. How could a woman look so innocent when she'd nearly destroyed a man's soul with a taste of her mouth?

Emma bent over and retrieved her fallen sword. He watched as she sheathed it quickly in her belt and began to walk away, unable to meet his gaze. But he would not allow her retreat as he stopped her with his hooked hand, curving it around her wrist.

"Not so fast love—we have much to talk about you and I."

"It's Swan." She retorted.

He smiled, stepping towards her, "I think I can call you whatever I wish now after that little adventure."

Her eyes turned hotly to his, "we had a deal, Hook."

"Yes we did, but I consider your kiss a surrender." He lowered his mouth towards her and smiled mockingly. "I beat you."

Her lips parted, at first in confusion, then in surprise. The hurt came quickly, but before it could make her weak, she let in the fury. Her hand swept out and came hard against his face. The slap echoed in the air, and then silence remained.

"Go to hell, Hook."

Emma clenched her fist tightly as she strode down the deck and to the doorway. Fighting her sudden anger, she refused to show anything to that arrogant ass. Thankfully Hook managed to keep his mouth shut as he let her leave without another word.

Killian didn't go after her. His anger wouldn't allow it, even though he instinctively wanted to sooth the pain he had caused her just now. But he wasn't angry for the slap—no, that was nothing important, considering she could've easily sliced him with her sword instead. But her words, and the look in her eyes had carried more sting than the slap had. What bloody right did she have to make him feel remorse—guilt over being who he was? A snarky, sharp-tongued pirate who conquers whomever he pleases.

But still he wanted her. Killian admitted angrily as he scratched his hook along the closets sail beam. The sails whipped above him, catching the wind and beating fiercely above him. He ran his hand over his face, and breathed in deeply.

He would not let Emma Swan under his skin so easily. After all he was a villain, and like Regina said—villains didn't get happy endings. But he could at least damn Swan and all that she represented, heroes and happy endings, he thought grimly as he strode to his post of commander and grabbed tight to the spoke of the wheel. And he would make himself forget all about how her kiss made him feel.

_**TBC**_


	2. The Demands of a Pirate

**Thanks to everyone for the wonderful reviews so far! Here's the next tantalizing new chapter for you. Wrote it rather quickly & refused to dwell on it before publishing it tonight. So here you go. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2: The Demands of a Pirate**

Emma was beginning to feel on the verge of losing all hope of finding Henry. Pan's threats and tactics were by far the hardest thing she had ever encountered. Luckily she had the most irritatingly hopeful parents on the planet. And with them by her side, she just couldn't give up, they wouldn't allow it. Surprisingly, Regina had been on her best behavior as well, attempting to gain the same thing they were—Henry before Pan corrupted him. And worse of all, much to Emma's chagrin, Hook too had demonstrated his invaluable worth on this mission.

In fact, she thought impatiently, Hook was probably the one person here that she was beginning to feel would actually find her son. Mary-Margret and David were good at what they did, being heroic and brave, but they had never been to Neverland. Same with Regina, whose powers seemed to only cause them trouble, then help. Yet Hook had proved the most important person among them. Though she would never admit it to the cocky bastard, she was grateful for his help.

Tonight had been a devastating loss for her though. They had found Neal's cave and her hope had surged forth once more, feeling that somehow beyond the grave, Neal could save her and their son. But nothing came of it. It was just an empty cave, with more questions than answers. Not only that but now she was gripped with sudden grief as memories of Neal's final moments came hurtling back with haunting clarity.

She remembered reaching out to him, trying to pull him back from the oblivion of what that portal meant if he fell in. She watched him get shot, on the verge of death right in front of her eyes and she couldn't do a damn thing but let him slip through her fingers.

Dried tears tracked her face as she hunkered down in front of the small fire she had made. She wiped her face absently even though the tears were long gone.

The words she shouted still echoed in her ears as she thought about Neal's death. She had admitted her love for him in a moment of desperation—in panic of losing him. He was Henry's father—he had to live for him. Yet she still lost him, only after just finding him. And now it felt like a lifetime ago that she watched him fall through the portal.

Emma heard the cracking sounds of dried leaves and twigs beneath someone's feet. She stilled and instinctively knew it had to be Mary-Margret.

"I don't want to talk right now," Emma said without bothering to glance behind her. "I just need some space, all right?"

"Fine by me, Swan."

Hook's voice was an unexpected welcome. She turned and saw him returning the way he came on the darkened jungle path.

"Wait!"

He stilled, his back straightening. When he glanced over his shoulder, his brow was arched curiously at her.

She cleared her throat awkwardly, suddenly not sure why she had stopped him, only that deep down she didn't want to be alone. And that she didn't want to think about never finding Henry and the loss of Neal.

"Please stay." She spoke softly.

He nodded and without a word sat down besides her in front of the fire. Hook stretched out his long, lean legs, letting his boot heel rest precariously close to the fire.

"You've caused quite a stir with the parents," Hook said. "When I realized that mom of yours wasn't coming to find you—I decided to fill in instead."

Emma frowned. "How considerate of you," her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Look, I know what you're going through. I've been there myself." He replied calmly.

Her irritation with him abruptly faded. How could she have forgotten? Gold had taken Hook's love from him long ago. He did understand what she felt. But how could he—when she herself felt conflicted? She didn't know what hurt the most—loosing Neal or Henry.

"I myself am not a patient man," he said. "And when I was told 'time heals all wounds' I didn't believe it. Not one for the ticking clock I suppose. Then I became caught up in the whole revenge bit. All I could think about was my sword at Rumpelstiltskin's throat. And then maybe I could finally grieve for what had been taken from me."

Emma's heart pulled for him. A loss of such gravity could change a person and the man that sat with her now was the outcome.

He withdrew his flask from his pocket and pulled the cap off his with teeth and offered her the first sip. She accepted his small gesture of comfort. "You know, you could just ask me and I'll take the cap off for you."

"It's more dramatic this way."

Impossibly, Emma laughed. Hook smiled warmly back at her. Ignoring the kindness in his gaze, she took several hearty swallows of the rum before handing it back to him. He took a brief gulp and sighed.

"Love is a force to be reckoned with." He murmured.

"Funny, Cora told me it makes us weak. And I can't help but feel that way now."

Hook shot her a disbelieving look. "I highly doubt that, Swan."

She returned his gaze. "Look at where I'm at right now, Hook. Nowhere! I feel further from Henry than ever before and it's my fault. I should've protected him—I should've been there for him. But I wasn't. I failed him again. And I'm afraid that with Neal's death—things will only get worse."

"You can't control everything," Hook said solemnly. "And definitely not the antics of others, especially vile ones like Pan."

Killian felt the urge to reach out and brush her hair from her shoulders and comfort her. Instead his grip tightened on the flash he held. He swallowed the burn in his throat and took another sip of the rum, attempting to alleviate the ache in his heart. Not for himself, but for her. He could relate to her pain, he'd felt it for years. And seeing her go through the same fate, felt wrong.

"And with Neal…" He hesitated. "He was a good man. He will be missed by many."

She eyed him lamely. "Including you?"

He smirked. "I had my share of adventures with the lad."

Emma nodded and glanced away, her eyes filling with hurt. All Hook could think to do was offer some more rum, which she took.

After several minutes, the silence spaced between them over the cracking noise of the fire, Emma finally spoke. "Thanks by the way."

"Whatever for, Swan?"

He watched as she shifted uneasily, unable to look at him.

"For being incredible."

When he laughingly smiled at her, she continued quickly. "I mean—not like that, just that you've been helpful—more helpful than I could've imagined during this."

"The journey's not over," he replied quietly.

"I know." She paused and finally returned his gaze. "But I wanted to tell you… thanks. Thanks for being here."

Never before had Killian been complimented in such a manner and yet, he was pleased by the sincerity in her tone, knowing it rang true.

"You're very welcome," he said with a firm nod.

"And for the rum." She said with a beautiful smile curving at her lips.

Killian couldn't prevent his eyes from wandering over them as he nodded again. When he returned his gaze towards hers, she quickly looked away, as if caught staring at the same thing. He gritted his teeth tightly, unsure of how to approach this subject with her—or if he should now. But he couldn't stop thinking about it. Ever since their arrival to Neverland they avoided the topic of their intoxicating kiss aboard the Jolly Roger like the black plague.

He continued with his usual manner and occasional flirtations, yet held back as well. He refused to make a fool out of himself again. For whatever reason of Emma's own, she decided to play games with him— and act as if nothing incredible happened between them. But that didn't mean he had to go along with it. She was making him feel foolish. Look foolish. Killian could tolerate a great deal, but not that. Pride was vital to him, pride was who he was, in what he'd made of and for himself. And he wasn't going to turn into her puppet and bend at her very need and want.

If she wanted him—it had to be on equal terms. He may want her, but he wouldn't be anyone's fill-in bedmate. He wouldn't be her dead, former lover's replacement. She had to want him for who he was, not who he wasn't.

"Tell me how you unlocked the map, Swan. It's been on my mind quite a bit since you figured it out." He said.

"I'm sure it has," she replied shortly.

"I'm serious," he said. "There's not much I can't figure out with Pan and his motivations—but that was a tricky one, even by my standards."

Emma gazed down at the fire, her eyes darkening. "He wanted me to remember who I really am."

"And who is that?"

Her eyes met him with dark intensity. "An orphan."

He stiffened. "Forgive the question, Swan. I was merely curious."

"It's all right." She took another swig and smiled lazily. He wondered how much liquor she could tolerate. "I am an orphan."

"But your parents are here, they are helping you. Do you still feel abandoned?"

"Yeah, actually. And now with Neal gone, I don't want Henry feeling the same way. The kid's already been through so much. I don't want him to have to go through the pain of losing his father too. Not after just finding him."

"I take it this pain is what you're feeling now." He stated. He knew the truth. Emma lost her love. Maybe even her true love. And in their world, that was a powerful, devastating loss.

She swallowed, twirling the flask between her hands anxiously. "Yeah, I suppose."

He arched a brow.

She didn't look at him as she spoke, "I knew I always loved Neal. But that had been years ago. Then I was pregnant with Henry and my life changed. Everything changed—_I_ changed." She ran a frustrated hand through her thick blond hair. It spilled out on her shoulders, glinting softly in the firelight. Killian tried not to stare, feeling a considerable warmth growing beneath his jacket.

"Then he came back so suddenly—I found out who he really was and he met Henry." The sadness didn't reach her face, but he heard it in her voice as she carried on. "I was happy at the thought of Henry having a father. Something I had never had. And how I wanted Henry to have a family. Then things began to get complicated, like they always seem to do and before I realized it—Neal got shot and was falling into a portal."

He knew what she was about to say before she said it.

"I told him I needed him—that I loved him." Her voice hitched, sounding dangerously close to tears. A sudden stab of jealously pierced through his gut, tearing him open from the inside out. He clenched his teeth down hard, refusing to acknowledge the pain. He wasn't jealous! He was Captain Hook, who plundered and took whatever he wanted. Besides, he'd already had the love of his life and he's a villainous character, and they don't get second chances in this world of theirs. Emma Swan certainly could never be his second chance and he couldn't be hers. They weren't meant to be. He had accepted that, still the idea had been fun to play with. And it helped that he was devastatingly attracted to her.

"Fear makes us admit our feelings before we even realize them ourselves, Swan." Killian said softly, though his heart was reluctant. "It was good that you told him the truth. You would have regretted it later if you hadn't—trust me, I know."

"Yeah and fear can also make you say stupid things that you regret later too." She muttered and took another swig, emptying his last stock of rum.

"Are you saying you regret telling Neal you loved him?" he asked, unable to contain his surprise.

For several moments she said nothing. She didn't know what to say because she herself didn't know the truth anymore. "I don't know…" she whispered hoarsely. "All I know is that I need to get Henry back. That I want to have some sort of family with him because I don't ever want him to feel like an orphan—like I do."

She turned to meet Hook's gaze and her breath caught in her chest. He looked at her curiously and with a comforting warmth she hadn't seen there before, or maybe she had, but refused to acknowledge that he had any sort of kindness in him. As she stared into his hauntingly beautiful blue eyes she was reminded of the story she had read in the library of the orphanage she had lived in for a short time. And how the villainous Hook never frightened her in that fairy tale.

"You know," Emma began. "I read the Peter Pan story when I was a kid. I remember reading about you and your revenge against Pan."

He suddenly smiled. Emma noticed that whenever Hook smiled, it always reached his eyes. He was genuine with his feelings almost every time and that was more than she could say about herself—or Neal.

"Really? And from what I have already gathered in your world, I am a villainous monster that fails tragically at the end of the story, is that right?"

She shrugged, "Yeah, pretty much. You get eaten by a crocodile."

He snorted, "aw—the irony."

This time she laughed and handed him back his flask. "I finished it," she commented, watching as he shook the empty canister.

"And that was the last that I brought with me I'm afraid. Whatever shall I do now?"

"Maybe Regina can magic some more back in there for you."

"Yes, let's give her the opportunity to poison me."

Emma smirked, "She's known to do that."

"Yet you feel comfortable enough to let her be in your son's life." He stated casually.

She stiffened. "Only because I know she will never hurt him."

"Not intentionally at least." He responded. "That's what Neal's father believed too—the Dark One. Look how well that turned out."

She leaned forward, her hands draping over her knees, her fingers drifting above the flames. "I can only have faith in Regina's love for my son to always keep him safe. She's proved to me too many times to not trust in regards to Henry's life."

"Fair enough," he said. "So in the story, that fairy tale,—am I devilishly handsome?"

Emma whipped her head around to him and laughed. "I told you already you weren't."

Hook too leaned towards her, his playful eyes dancing in the reflection of the firelight. "Aw yes, you told me he had some sort of perm?"

"Long curly hair like a girl," she said with a disapproving frown.

Hook grimaced in disgust and shook his head, laughing weakly. "Well, I'm glad at least to have given some entertainment even if the story is false."

"I actually liked your character when I was a kid."

Hook's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "My pride has already taken a beating, Swan—you don't have to lie to make me feel any better."

"I'm not lying! I'm serious." She rolled her eyes at his disbelieving gaze and decided to tell him the truth. "When I was a kid—I tried to fit in with the other kids, boys actually. Which ended up me landing in the library a lot, which in your lingo would be like a dungeon or prison chamber. So I read your story. God…" Emma shook her head, her fingers trailing through her hair and pulling it back off her shoulders. "I can't even remember how many times I read that story. And I didn't read it for Peter Pan."

Hook's disbelieving gaze softened curiously. "Then what did you read it for?"

"All the other stories for girls my age had some lame princesses running off into the sun-set with Prince Charming."

"Your father ends up with all those women?"

Emma frowned at his logic but then realized what she said and quickly shook her head. "Sorry—no I mean, all the princesses ended up finding their own Mr. Perfect Prince and living happily ever after with them."

"And you didn't agree with these stories?"

"No—never."

Hook searched her face. "Poor, sad, little Emma. All alone in the world and doesn't even believe in true love as a child."

She scoffed. "I believed in fighting for what you want and going after it if you can't get it."

"Like what you are doing now for your Henry."

His simple statement moved her suddenly. Her eyes widened and her heart felt less heavy in her chest. "Yeah, I guess so."

"So how is it that my tale liberated you from the library prison?" he asked.

Emma's heart thumped loudly against her chest as she said softly, "I imagined fighting alongside you on your ship or in Neverland."

His eyes widened in surprise. "But I was the villain."

"I know—and I didn't care. You were braver than Pan and so sure about going after what you wanted. And I felt that if I wanted anything in this world, I would have to pursue it the same way—to ends of the earth if I had to."

"Careful, Swan—you're making me sound more like a hero than a villain."

"You're not a villain." Emma whispered. "I never thought…" She cut herself off, appalled that she'd been about to admit how she'd been feeling for him lately.

"Thought what?"

"Thought that you were… uh—evil." She brushed the subject away by returning her gaze to the fire. "Arrogant yeah, and kind of a jerk sometimes, but not—evil."

He put a hand on her shoulder and with the slightest pressure made her turn. Emma felt his hand burn into her bare shoulder like a brand. How one touch could make her shiver was ridiculous and yet… incredible. The darkness of the jungle spread out behind him, the firelight had circled them with its glow and left them secluded in its warmth. All she could see was his sky blue eyes and the desire reflected in them.

"I find that your opinion of me matters more than I care to admit, Swan." He paused, letting his hand slide over her shoulder to the nape of her neck. The skin felt more sensitive there, reminded of how he had kissed her there so passionately only days ago.

She shuddered and crossed her arms over her chest. "This coming from a pirate?"

His smirk was one of the sexiest things Emma had ever seen as he leaned forward, his breath close over her lips.

"Not just a pirate, a Captain and a man. One who is very much attracted to you."

Instinctively she felt herself lick her lips. He made her feel reckless— and maybe a little fearless. She wanted to kiss him again, she realized. Kiss him the same way they had on the ship, bold, fierce and uninhibited. But she stilled, hesitating against her own frantically beating heart and building anticipation.

He leaned in, closing in on her lips, when she pulled back slightly. "No."

He froze, staying dangerously close to her mouth. She saw the twitch of his jaw muscle flex, his eyes darkening with desire as he stared at her. "Kiss me, Swan."

His demand sounded like an order and strangely enough it sent shivers of excitement down her back, but she stayed put. Refusing to give in so easily.

"No." She pulled away completely then, but not far or fast enough as Hook reached forward, snaking his hooked hand behind her neck.

"Yes you will, love. It'll make you forget about your pain—I can help do this for you."

A sudden surge of fury welled up inside her as she grabbed his hook and removed it from her neck. "I don't think having another hot make out session is what I really need from you, Hook."

"Fine—then let me at least make you smile." He said with an arrogant, seductive grin.

Furious, Emma glared hotly at him. "I'm not going to fall into bed with you. I'm not one for orders and demands."

"Obviously." He remarked drily. "I haven't had to work this hard at wooing a girl since I was a lad."

Stunned and feeling humiliated, her back straightened and her heart stung. "You mean all of this," she gestured between them and their secluded spot next to the fireplace, "was just you trying to get into my pants?"

"I was thinking my captain's quarters, but yes, it's essentially the same thing."

"I don't believe you!" She scrambled to her feet, urgently needing to get away from him. "I can't believe I let myself think…" She stopped short, unwilling to let him hear how he had convinced her he was a good man just now, how in his comfort and presence he had made her feel safe and cared for. Damn him! Damn him for making her believe his lies!

"What do you expect, Swan? Love sonnets and poems?" He too got to his feet, standing over her like the commanding pirate she knew him to be. "Not after the way you disregarded me so easily on my own ship—treating me like some foolish, simpering cad. Let me make myself abundantly clear to you, Emma—I'm not like your old flames, or Neal for that matter."

She took an instinctive step back as the anger Hook displayed had transformed his handsome face into hard and unyielding lines. No one seeing him now would believe he could smile so sweetly.

"You said it yourself, I am a man who knows what I want and goes after it. You are the same—just like me."

"I'm nothing like you," she whispered.

"Oh yes you are, Emma. You have the same qualities I look for in a good pirate. Now admit it," he whispered darkly, his face inching forward, lips hovering over hers. "Admit that you want me and let's end this charade, eh?"

"No."

He sighed. "Emma, your making this difficult and it doesn't have to be. It's simple."

Without warning, Emma pushed him back roughly and stood straight, ready to pull her sword out if she had to. "Nothing about getting involved with you is simple, Hook. So don't expect me to fall head over heels for your pirate charm or whatever. It doesn't work on me. It never has."

"You're a liar. A good one at that, but still a liar." He said with a confident tone. "You like me, Emma. And you're afraid because of Neal."

"What?" she asked breathlessly.

"You feel you should mourn him and that by being with me, you aren't. And aside from that fact, I'm also a villain in the eyes of your family and son. So being with me means _complication_."

"You're an asshole."

He smirked dangerously. "Would you care to sword fight this out? I wouldn't mind, after all it ended rather well the last time we dueled."

Before Emma realized what she was doing she stepped forward and took a hard swing at him. He ducked easily and with effortless skill, grabbed her arm and twisted her around, slamming her back into the wall of his chest. "My, my, love—such passion."

"Damnit, Hook!"

He tightened his hold, feeling the sudden arousal hit him just by holding her. Bloody hell, what did this woman do to him? Her soft body molded into his perfectly. If he would even go as far as saying she was made to be his. Her skin felt like silk against him, her hair smelled of dark stormy nights in Neverland, and her warm body sent a feverish arousal down his spin, all the way to his manhood.

She aroused, frustrated, made him jealous, and challenged him constantly. He loved it. Using his advantage of a hooked hand, he trapped her arms to her chest, his sharp dagger tip locking her together. He pushed the side of her face with his, letting his stubble chin scrap across her exposed neck. She made a gasping noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimpering moan, but before he had time to process, she pushed backwards against his chest again. He barely felt her weak attempt to escape.

"You're afraid, darling." He whispered into the shell of her ear, letting his warm breath tickle her skin.

"I'm not afraid of you." She countered, panting—not from fighting him, but from the heat coursing through her veins, just like his.

"I know—but you are afraid of what liking me may mean, aren't you?" He licked her ear, then sucked at it playfully. Emma trembled slightly in his arms, causing him to burn hotter for her than ever before. She was denying him with words, yet her body was betraying her every second he held her. She grew softer and more complacent. His arm slipped up a little higher until they rested just beneath her plump, supple breasts.

He widened his stance and angled himself so that she felt his desire, hard and stiff into her soft backside.

"I won't deny it any longer, Swan—I rather fancy you and I think you already knew that."

Her movements stilled when he trailed hot kisses down her neck and to her shoulder. "I won't be ordered into your bed, Hook."

Killian realized then that Emma was as strong and hard as any foe he could face. Desire raced with rapier swiftness through his system.

"You want me. I've seen it. And I can bloody well feel it." He retorted.

"Yes," she said unexpectedly. He instantly turned her around in his arms and stared down at her, but her eyes were level and challenged the triumph in his. "But unlike you, Hook—I've learned to put my wants behind what's necessary. And my son is out there, in danger. And maybe someday, when all of this is over, you might come to me with needs instead of demands."

She pivoted and stomped down hard on his foot. He cursed and leapt away, pain radiating up his leg, ruining all whatever arousal he had felt. Whirling away, she started down the darkened jungle pathway alone, leaving him behind.

_**TBC**_


	3. Hope

**Chapter 3: Hope**

Emma awoke with a start.

"Wake up!" Regina stood over her, her regal features drawn back tightly. "Get up—now." She commanded.

Her eyes instantly popped open, fear gripping as she sat up. "What—what's wrong? What's happened?" She still felt slightly dazed from sleep. It had been difficult for them finding enough time to sleep between their journey and night shifts. So when Emma finally had the opportunity to sleep an entire night, it hurt opening her eyes again.

"Are borders are being breached." Regina stated vaguely.

Confused, Emma glanced up at her, then across their small camp to where David and Mary-Margret were also rising from their slumber, looking bleary-eyed.

"What are you talking about, Regina?" Hook's voice came out with a strong, reassuring authority. Emma's heart gave a small, stupid flutter. She turned her gaze to him. He was tugging on his black leather coat, which he must have slept on last night. Seeing him in just his vest and black long, sleeved shirt was a pleasant change. And damnit, why did he have to be such a handsome distraction?! His hauntingly blue eyes seemed to avoid her with careful caution. A swift pang of regret shot through her. If only she could trust him then maybe the idea of being with him wasn't such a bad one.

Please, she thought sarcastically, anything other than a torrid affair with Captain Hook was idiotic. Heroes and villains don't mix well. Her experience with having to deal with Regina on a daily basis told her as much.

Emma instantly shook off any remnants of sleep and clambered to her feet.

"I'm talking about the enchantments I put up last night during my watch." Regina said drily.

"Wait—you're using magic?" Emma asked.

"Yeah, so what? Its helping isn't it?" Regina countered. "Look-" She pointed off over Emma's shoulder. She turned around and saw a misty golden trail leading off into the jungle. It appeared to be something magical, like one of Regina's spells, telling them where to go—or stay away from.

"What does that mean?" Emma asked.

"Like I said, our borders have been breached. The spell just alerted me to something close by. It glows when it's been activated by someone." Regina explained.

"Or something," she murmured under her breath.

"We should check it out," David said, already slipping his belt on, gathering his weapon.

"It may be dangerous," Hook commented cautiously.

"Please, everything's dangerous here, Hook. You told us that." Regina snapped indifferently.

"Fine—then I'll go first." Hook stepped forward, his expression hard and flat.

Emma would've guessed that he was about to face a horrific battle, and knowing Hook, he probably knew that was exactly what they were about to face.

"We haven't ventured that way yet," Hook said. "And I know for a fact that Pan's hidden in this part of the jungle before. So that means they're dangerous."

"Why didn't you tell us that before?" Emma asked, stepping right besides, unsheathing her sword.

Hook casted her a brief sideways glance, not letting his eyes linger on her. "I'm telling you now, Swan."

Her name sounded foreign to her own ears as he said it so coldly, so indifferently. Especially since memories of how he whispered soft, passionate endearments to her last night still haunted her. Emma vividly remembered how it felt to have his overwhelmingly strong arms wrapped around her body. A sudden shiver raced up her back. But she ignored it and nearly bit her tongue at her traitorous thoughts. Stop it, she told herself firmly. Stop being foolish. It's time to focus. Something dangerous lurked in the jungle, and it was not the time to be mooning over a pirate. She gritted her teeth in mental preparation for battle.

Emma too refused to meet his eyes as she said irritably, "You could've told us before we camped here."

Hook too unsheathed his sword. "Haven't I proved myself trustworthy yet, Swan?"

Stunned, she finally let herself steal a glance at him. But his face was unreadable.

"We're right behind you, Hook." Mary-Margret said, before Emma could say anything to him.

Hook furrowed his brow, a dark hunter glint in his eyes as he stepped onto the enchanted pathway, and into danger.

Killian moved forward slowly, knowing who he approached by the way the Lost Boy's camp had been set up—because it was one giant death trap. Felix, the Lost Boy and Pan's right hand boy, was as smart as he was vicious and Killian couldn't help but be impressed by such an opponent. Felix was more ruthless than Rufio and Killian had only ever gotten away with the defeat of one Lost Boy. He stilled, hunkering down into the jungle brush near Felix's small yet treacherous campsite.

"What is it?" Emma asked softly from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, searched her face and saw a fearless, almost reckless determination in her eyes.

By God she was beautiful. He swallowed that thought very quickly as he shook his head. "It's a Lost Boy."

"Just one?" David asked.

"He's the best of them," he replied solemnly. He searched and his gaze landed on Regina. He motioned for her. She carefully stepped forward and stopped before him. "I need you to disarm his traps. Can you do something like that with your magic?"

"I can do more than just disarm them," she replied coolly. "Where are they?"

Killian pointed out the first of the traps which was a large, severed tree stomp connected to a rope that suspended up high. Its purpose was designed to swing down and pummel the person who stepped on the trip wire. It was called a dead-man's fall. The next trap was a simple pitfall covered with dried earth and leaves. But he could decipher the subtle differences in the jungle to see where the covered pit lay. Its deathly spikes turned upwards to catch whoever fell in.

He analyzed the site before him—if the person was smart enough to avoid the dead-man's fall, they would run straight into the pitfall, and if they managed to avoid that, then there was only one thing was left to kill them and that was Felix.

And Killian knew exactly where he was.

"Now," He commanded. Regina took aim with her hands and directed her power towards the dead-man's fall first. A fire ball shot out from her palms hitting the trap with a fiery burst of light. It exploded and collapsed in on itself. The enflamed tree stump rolled off the burnt rope and into the pit, destroying them both at the same time. He saw Felix then, as he stood back in the far end of the jungle, enraged.

Killian sprang from the brush and ran straight to the Lost Boy. Felix, caught off guard by the sudden attack, raced ahead instead of pulling his sword. They followed in hot pursuit. But he knew they wouldn't continue this foot race long, Lost Boys were the best evaders when it came to Pan's jungles.

"Snow—hit him with a bow!" Killian ordered in a shout as he continued chasing after the boy.

Snow White stopped while the rest carried on on with the chase. Snow withdrew her arrow, took aim, and fired. The bow hit Felix in the back of his shoulder. He spun, stumbled and fell to the jungle floor. They raced to him, Killian and David reaching him first. David hauled the boy to his feet and held him against the tree. The arrow had pierced deeply into the back of his shoulder.

"Where's Pan hiding?" David demanded in a breathless, adrenaline fueled pant.

"I'm not telling you," Felix spat out in disgust.

Killian stepped forward, making it a point to shine his silver hook in front of the boy. He watched as the youthful Lost Boy's eyes widened in fear at the hook. The Lost Boys heard the tale of how he defeated Rufio and knew that it involved a garish death by a curved hook.

"You know we want Pan, Felix. I suggest you give up his true location or I just might let the prince beat on you a bit before I take a stab at it myself." Killian drawled out dangerously.

The boy tensed. "You wouldn't. You barely had the stomach to finish Rufio. Pan said you did it out of mercy—not murder. You're weak Hook. And Pan can't wait to get his hands on you."

"Really? You believe me weak, boy?" He abruptly moved, grabbing Felix out of David's grasp and shoving him violently into a tree. "Tell us where Pan is and I won't show you what I did to Rufio—it involved opening him up—bit by bit." He dragged his hooked hand up the boy's stomach, all the way to his chest.

Felix's dark eyes widened but he still smiled coldly at him. "Go ahead, pirate. I'm not afraid of you."

"Fine—then how about me!" Emma suddenly pushed herself forward and shoved her blade right up under the boy's chin. "I'll rip you're throat open—I swear I will." She breathed out.

Killian eyes darted to Emma, amazed. He'd never seen her so ruthless. It was startling, but necessary.

"You don't have it in you either," Felix mocked. "Just like your pirate here. Both of you are weak."

"I may be weak compared to you but I'm angry. Angry that you killed Neal and that you stole my son. And now—I'm seriously pissed off because this has taken too long to get him back. Now tell me where he is or I swear on my life that I will cut you open, Lost Boy."

Felix trembled beneath her grasp. "Fine! I'll tell you where Pan is keeping Henry."

Emma's blade never wavered from his throat. "Show me—on the map."

Regina knocked the Lost Boy out with a sleeping spell. David then tied and gagged him to a tree, in a very high tree. So if he eventually escaped, it would at least give them some time to go after Henry—who was only half a day's walk from where they currently were. Victory was surging through Emma now. They were close. Closer than they had been in days! She could almost hear Henry's voice shouting out her name when they finally rescued him.

Pan couldn't stop her now. She had regained what he had planned on taking from her on this quest for Henry and that was hope. He wanted this journey to devastate her—but he couldn't, not when she had Hook.

Captain-friggin-Hook had pulled her back from the edge, she thought in surprise and… relief. He saved her. He gave her back her hope of finding Henry.

They returned to their camp, collecting their things quickly. Hook told them he had to get something from Neal's cave and would be back momentarily. Emma, feeling the surging adrenaline of victory pulsing through her, followed him explaining to the other's she had to use the bathroom before their journey began.

Emma brushed away the jungle leaves as she emerged from the pathway to see Hook standing at the mouth of the cave, empty handed and grim faced.

He saw her and stopped short. "Swan—," he began with a sheepish smile. "You were brilliant today. I've never seen a Lost Boy shake in his boots quite like that before."

Emma suddenly couldn't breathe from the fluttering butterflies in her stomach. She was nervous, but not afraid. The manacles of her fear dropped from her limbs as she walked towards him. Feeling unshackled since the first time she stepped on the island, and maybe longer, Emma boldly went to him. His eyes widened in surprise as she stepped forward, grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket and pulled his face close to hers.

"Shut-up for a second," she whispered before her lips parted and without invitation, took Hook's mouth for her own.

Emma felt her heart expand to the point of bursting with pent-up emotion and need. Oh God she needed this—she needed him. She opened her mouth to his sweeping tongue and gave in to his demanding, conquering kiss. Why had she denied him? Why did she ever deny this?! This felt so right, so wonderful…

"Emma, Emma, my darling," he whispered against her mouth. His tongue delved into the sweet vault of her mouth again, greedier this time. It was met with equal fervor. Hook lowered his arm and encircled her waist with his hooked hand. The other hand slid down her spine to the small of her back, pressing, urging her closer. With such an intimate positioning of their bodies, she knew at once the hard evidence of his arousal and was surprised by her reaction. Not shock—but hunger. A burning, aching hunger to never stop kissing him.

She rose to his kiss, opening her body to his hold, his touch. She ached to know fulfillment, held as she was in a prison of her own desire for him.

Her hands crept beneath his coat of their own volition, plastered themselves against his warm, taut waist. With a groan, he leaned into her and kissed her more deeply, making her heart pound so furiously she thought he'd hear it. Or feel it. Her hands roamed over the hard muscles of his chest, feeling the power beneath her fingers. An exciting anticipation filled her. She realized then how much she wanted this moment to continue, but somewhere secluded, isolated from the world—somewhere involving a bed and him naked, wearing nothing but his roguish grin. Her body trembled at the thought.

She felt his hand move from her back, over her stomach and towards her breasts. She gasped against his mouth as his hand captured her fully, kneading her gently yet urgently. His expert fingers toyed with her nipple over her shirt, letting it peak into his palm as he palmed her. Hook trailed hot, wet kisses down her jaw and over her neck, thrilling her. Barely able to catch her breath, Emma clung to him for support, her knees weak from the desire coursing through her.

Fully aroused and feeling recklessly wild, she lifted her leg and wrapped herself around the pirate like a vine. Pressing his full, thick arousal into her, letting him feel her ache for him. Hook groaned hoarsely into her neck and if Emma hadn't been holding him so tightly, she wouldn't have felt the tremble his body gave.

"Killian…" she whispered his name then, wanting the intimacy of their moment to mean something. And for him to know that she wanted this—wanted him. "Kiss me damn you."

"With pleasure, love." His mouth covered hers again in the most exhilarating kiss imaginable. Or was it exhilarating because his hips now rocked into her, making her tremble this time.

Every muscle in Killian's body came alive. Her lips were even tastier than he remembered, honey-sweet and warm as summer. He could spend hours kissing her, touching her. He'd never met a woman like Emma Swan—so bold, so stubborn, so bloody seductive. If he could, he would take his time with her. Show her how much she meant to him and worship her body unlike any other lover she encountered.

But now was not the right time. She had to get back to Henry.

He pulled back from their kiss. Her lips were reddened and eyes heavy.

"Absolutely breath-taking, my dear…" he said softly. "And as much as I would love to continue this—don't we have somewhere to be?"

A cool clarity crossed her face and a soft, horrified moan escaped her. She dropped her leg from his waist and ran a shaky hand through her long blond hair. "Oh God…" she said. "What was I thinking?"

He held her close still, his own arousal unabated. "I am unclear of that myself. Though if you wish to think it later, after of course we rescue your son, I will be more than happy to oblige you again."

A weak smile curled her lips. "Of course you would."

Unable to resist, he gave her a self-satisfied smile and kissed her forehead.

She glanced around where they were and gazed up at him. "Why did you come back here?"

"I wanted to say my good-byes to an old friend."

A sadness came quickly to her eyes as she looked away from him. "I didn't think you cared about him that much."

Killian swept her hair over her shoulder with a gentle caress. "I cared that his death affected you as it has." His thumb moved up over the underside of her jaw to her soft lips. "But I also came to apologize to his memory."

She stared up at him curiously. "Why?"

"For wanting what is his. For wanting you."

Killian didn't give her a chance to reply as he dipped his head and with a softness he had never shown her before, he kissed her. It was gentle and warm, more of an asking than a taking. Emma hesitated for only a moment before wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and accepting his tender kiss.

It was she who pulled back before the kiss could deepen. "Thank you, Hook." Her eyes shone up at him. "For giving me hope. I feel like I can't lose if you're with me."

"We'll get him back, Emma. I promise."

She nodded, tentatively moving away. Reluctantly, Killian let her go.

"I should go back first, Hook." She said. "I don't want them sending out a search party."

"Of course." He watched as she turned to leave but stopped when he said. "It's Killian—not Hook."

She smirked. "It's Emma—not Swan."

They smiled at each other and she quickly turned back to the path and left him. A serene happiness and shock filled him. Emma came to him this time. Her actions proved to him of her desire—she wouldn't be able to deny him anymore. He took a deep, lunge clearing breath and straightened his jacket, feeling the need to compose himself after such a passionate embrace.

"Don't move," said a hard male voice from behind him.

Killian froze and lifted his hand and hook. He felt a distinct point of a blade press into his back. "Not moving as you can see."

"I knew we couldn't trust you."

Killian suddenly recognized the voice from behind him and he turned. It was David—Emma's father.

"And why ever not, Prince?" he asked in mild amusement. He wasn't sure how long Charming had been standing there but apparently long enough to know what he had just been doing with his daughter.

"Stay away from my daughter, Hook. Or I'll make sure you lose that other hand of yours."

Killian arched a surprise eyebrow. "Will this be before or after you're six-feet-under?"

An enraged look crossed over David's face as he stepped forward, blade point now over Killian's heart.

"If you so much as go near her again…"

"I am here to help your family—not hurt it!" Killian patience with these supposed heroes had grown thin. He had given everything he had on this journey back into Neverland. He risked his own life, yet still they questioned his loyalty. And for what? Because he was a pirate? A villain?

"I really don't care what you have to say, Hook. It doesn't change your past or what you've done." David said coldly.

"I'm here now." He retorted, though he knew David may never trust him. Not after what he saw. But it didn't matter—he had to try, convince him that his intentions were honorable. "And whatever false beliefs you have of me, know I will never hurt your daughter."

Before David could say anything, a sudden darkness fell on where they stood. The jungles knowing silence of what was there, made Killian reach for his sword. Pan.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," said a youthful, playful voice.

Peter Pan suddenly emerged from the dark jungle, his Lost Boys flanking him. He may have the appearance of a young boy, but he was more powerful and dangerous than any foe Killian had come across—including the Dark One.

David's sword withdrew from Killian's chest and pointed towards Pan. "What do you want?"

Pan smiled cruelly at them. "I want a fair game."

Killian glared at him in disbelief. "We haven't cheated—and you bloody well know it."

Pan began to lazily stroll around them, the Lost Boys eyes upon them, watchful and hard.

"The Savior has an unfair advantage." Pan said.

"Oh really? And what could that possibly be?" Killian asked.

Pan turned to Killian and gazed at him curiously before saying, "You."

A sudden rush of panic jolted him as he felt his body being hulled backwards, flanked by four Lost Boys. Their hands gripping his arms, knocking the sword from his hand.

"NO!" Hook howled, fighting against them.

"Don't fight it Captain. You know what will happen if you do." Pan threatened mildly.

Hook stilled. "I am no threat to you, Pan. You and I both know it."

Killian swallowed his pride and let his words hang in the air. Yes, he remembered how easily the boy had defeated him and how he had tucked his tail and sailed out of this horrible place because of him. Captain Hook had only been defeated by Peter Pan and the Crocodile—and that was because of magic. Something he could never possess. Now things had changed. He came back to Neverland to save Henry. For her—for Emma.

Killian took a sharp breath as he realized the truth.

He had come back to the most evil, vile place on earth for Emma Swan. Not in memory of Neal. No, he did it for his darling… the feisty, stubborn, passionate woman who somehow managed to steal his heart. Killian stilled. Emma, without either of them knowing it, had his love. His complete and utter love. And he came back to this place knowing it may mean his death. But he always knew he would die for love—he just didn't expect it to be for Emma.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, giving in to the hands that shackled him. Pan would surely kill him this time.

Pan's dark gaze searched his face. "Yes, I know you're not a threat, Hook—but you're knowledge of Neverland is. And I can't very well have Swan finding me before I'm through with Henry. Take him back to camp, boys. And be sure to remove his hook this time."

The Lost Boys scowled and with a violent yank, Killian felt his arm wrap behind him, his hook ripped from him.

"Let him go!" David commanded, sword drawn towards Pan.

Pan arched a curious eyebrow at him. "Just a moment ago I saw you with a sword at his chest—now you wish for his life?"

A Lost Boy sucker punched David from behind, hitting him in the kidney and sending him to his knees in an instant. Killian watched in horror as David clutched his already injured side, his face pinched in agonizing pain.

"The dashing Prince is weaker than I imagined…" Pan murmured, stepping forward.

"He's been poisoned." Said one of the Lost Boys.

"Yes, that explains it. My, my… this is an unexpected surprise." His evil gaze turned to Killian. "How long does Prince Charming have?"

Killian lowered his gaze, regret washing over him. "A few days."

Pan's expression turned calculating then.

A sudden fear shot through him. Pan was devious as he was dangerous. Killian knew him well enough to understand that every action Pan made was for his own gain, even if they seem minor at the time. He kneeled before David now, taking his jaw in his hand, staring at him like a bug about to be squashed.

"Leave him be, Pan. You're quarrel is with me." Killian said, attempting to save David against the impossible.

"You are right, Hook—however the game is with Emma and I want the whole family present when they find their precious Henry."

Pan's face contorted and his eyes blackened. Killian watched as Pan's dark magic flowed from his hands and cured the poison from David's body. The pain on David's face vanished, then his features slackened and he fell weakly to the ground, unconscious.

Killian stared in disbelief at Pan. The boy grinned at him. "Never know when the debt of a Prince's life may be useful to me."

He should've known—Peter Pan's intentions were never good, nor was he merciful. He lowered his head submissively, feeling hopeless. How he had actually believed they would make it off this island alive. Emma's strength and determination infected him with the belief they would win. That they could actually defeat the evil that cursed Neverland.

Emma was being manipulated in every turn and now Killian would not be there to protect her. He could not be there with her in battle against Pan and his Lost Boys. He failed. Just like he always had with the women he loved. But this time it felt different—it felt worse.

"Let's go boys." Pan said and they returned to the darkened jungle but this time with a pirate as their prisoner.

_**TBC**_


	4. A Long Time Coming

**Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, & followers! This next chapter is intense- so prepare yourselves. I'll try to update soon as possible. Here are some of the songs that helped inspire & set the mood for this chapter- 'Auto Rock' & 'We're No Here' by Mogwi, 'Waiting for a Train' by Hans Zimmer. **

**Please review! Loved to hear what you think so far!**

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**Chapter 4: A Long Time Coming**

A sharp, painful ringing in his ears awoke him. Killian' flinched, cursing under his breath as he tenderly touched the side of his face. He still had his ear, he thought grimly, feeling a bloodied gash along his face that started from his ear. It had been inflicted on him while amongst his time spent with Lost Boys. He'd be sure not to give them another reason to cut the other side of his face. It was much to pretty to damage. Though, it's not like those boys needed a reason to skewer him while he still breathed. Rufio died by his hands—Pan had made sure of it. Exiling him from the island and making him into the villain he was today.

If Pan was good at anything—it was making killers out of the innocent. But that was a past long forgotten. Memories were like murky water to him, something he did not venture into often. A new memory suddenly resurfaced, Emma. He felt her hungry lips pressed into his, desperate yet tender as though she were truly kissing him for the first time and meaning every moment of it. Killian's gut wrenched painfully. Forgetting the scratch on the side of his face, he pressed his fingers into his eyes realizing then that she was still out there. And he wasn't.

Neverland was dangerous place and Emma was out there, alone. Well, not completely. She had her family and Regina. He knew they wouldn't let any harm come to her. But if he was there, he could protect her, be standing alongside her while they rescued Henry. Not trapped in some bloody, snot-nosed Lost Boys camp with his hands shackled to a damned post, completely and utterly useless.

If he was going to survive, he needed to act fast and if he wanted to get to Emma before Pan, he had to be clever about it. After their brief, yet wonderful kiss before his abduction, he'd felt things he hadn't realized he had the ability to feel again. Nothing like an overpoweringly hot kiss to bring it out of him. Still, their kiss felt different from the women he was accustomed to.

His mind brought forth the image of Mila. She was his first love, and he would always treasure her memory. Mila and Emma had similar qualities—strong, adventurous, brave. But Emma had more than his former love. She had proved to him over their time together that loyalty and family were something she would fight for, even when she never truly had it in her life.

Emma was damaged, but overcame, conquered. She saw past his pirate façade and still wanted him. He sighed and shook his head. Foolish girl, he thought in awe. How could a woman, so guarded with her heart spare him a piece of it? And he clung to the idea that she would. Desperate that she would consider him more than just a villainous pirate—but a man she would allow to love her and love in return.

He took a deep lung clearing breath and decided now was not the time for flights of romance. After all, he was the one capture. And if he were reading his plight like one of Emma's fairy tales, he'd say he was the damsel in distress at the moment.

Killian quickly took in his surroundings. He vaguely recalled being in a suspended jungle box, where he was caged inside like a caught bird. Now he was on the ground, chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles. His black clothes were dirty and torn from the journey to Pan's camp. And someone stole his favorite black jacket, he thought, gritting his teeth.

His stomach growled in hunger and his head ached from the sudden withdrawal of rum. A belly full of rum would certainly ease his torments right about now, he thought. His dark gaze lingered over the Lost Boys sitting about the roaring campfire, with their sticks and their swords—all familiar sights to him, seeing as how he spent a lifetime amongst these boys and their leader.

But a strange stone stood tall and formidable in the center next to the campfire. Nothing Killian had ever seen before. It was large, in the shape of a pillar, but earthier and almost brutal looking. As if Pan had summoned this ominous rock from the blackest pits of the ocean. And even more daunting were the sight of chains attached to it. It was a place of humiliation, Killian realized—a place of death.

"Hey," said a gruff male voice from besides him.

Killian's eyes moved towards the direction and nearly let out another string of surprised curses. It was Neal—Baelfire. The man who they all believed dead, now sat beside him in the dirt, chained and shackled to the same post.

"Baelfire?"

"Yeah," he said with a weak smile. "Good to see you, Hook. Glad to see someone I can trust at least."

Killian stilled. "You as well, mate." He said in a hollow voice.

Neal was alive and well, for the moment at least. His features were aged and weathered from his time in Pan's clutches. Still, Baelfire appeared strong and unrelenting. Mila's boy still shone in those dark eyes, along with hope. Baelfire was always a confidently hopeful lad, something Killian thought was idiotic. Still, it was reassuring to see it once more.

A sudden coldness filled Killian's limbs as he sat staring at the lad. This changed everything, he realized. Emma's true love lived. And the only logical assumption Killian could then make was that she would forget about him and return to her Neal.

He internally groaned. Emma… sweet darling, Emma. She would do the right thing, like she had done countless times and choose her Neal. Heroes stayed with heroes. They didn't end up with villains, not unless becoming one themselves.

Neal, the love of her life, Henry's father—was her happy ending. And she was his. A vicious, bloodthirsty pirate wasn't allowed the same privilege of such a dream.

A crippling devastation filled him. He wanted it—he wanted the absurd notion of a happy ending. He wanted it with Emma. And maybe in another world, in another time, she could have been his happy ending. But it was just a fantasy, and that's all it would ever be. A sad, lonely pirate's dream for more out of his dull, selfish existence.

A painful grief seized his heart. He would give anything to take Emma in his arms one last time. Hold her until she was breathless, panting with need and looking up at him with the same desire coursing through her body as in his. But he feared now that he would never get that chance again.

He loved her. He saw it now, confronted with the idea of losing her to another and what that would mean for him. Killian closed his eyes, suppressing the pain from his heart. He would say nothing to Neal. He would not dishonor what he had with Emma by divulging it to her true love.

Growing silent from his grief, Neal continued speaking, unaware. "Though, I'm not gonna lie—kind of surprised to see you here."

"Captured?" Killian asked drily. "Or back in Neverland?"

"Neverland. I guess I never thought you'd ever come back here. To this place."

"Neither I. Yet here we both sit—before our slaughtering rock too."

Neal's eyes widened as he surveyed the black rock. "Yeah, Pan brought us down here for a reason. I've been up in that birds nest for a couple days."

"Days? How long have you been here? How did you survive?"

"The portal sent me back to the Enchanted Forest—from there I had some help and managed to lure Pan's shadow to me. I hitched a ride and it took me back to Neverland. But before I had time to do anything, Pan and his Lost Boys snatched me. I got to Henry, but not enough to save him. Pan's too powerful."

"And bloody smart. Where is Henry? Is he all right?"

A curious expression flashed over Neal's face as he looked at him. Before Killian could see what it was, he blinked and it was gone. "Yeah, I saw him. He's fine from what I can tell. One of the Lost Boys took him though—somewhere away from here. Far away."

A dark, disconcerting fear settled into Killian's stomach and his eyes returned to the large rock before him. "Pan doesn't want the boy to witness his brutality—not yet at least."

"What? What are you talking about?" Neal asked.

Killian would've given up his other hand to have a few swigs of rum. Anything to dull the emotion—the fear. Pan planned on finally killing him. Both of them.

"Nothing, ol'chap. Just the ramblings of a bitter, old pirate." He swallowed the dry lump in his throat.

"Did you come here with Emma?" Neal asked besides him, his voice hopeful.

Killian stiffened. "Yes. She's alive—for the moment at least."

"Thank God," Neal mumbled under his breath.

"She may be are only hope of survival now. Seeing as how Pan will never let us go, not without something in return."

"She'll come." Neal said. "She's tough, we can trust her."

"Oh I do—I trust that Swan will rescue us. Be the savior that she was meant to be. But I fear it may be too late." Killian replied lowly as Pan reemerged from the jungle, Lost Boys in step.

Pan's dark, bloodthirsty gaze moved between the two of them before he smiled maliciously.

"Hello gentlemen. How are we this fine evening?"

"Well, and yourself?" Killian asked sarcastically.

"Just dandy now that you're both here. I have something to show you." Pan's eyes filled with a frightening delight.

"Do you mind returning my bottle of rum first?" Killian asked. "I'm feeling a bit parched."

Pan laughed and pulled the bottle from his pocket, tossing it into his lap. "Such a cliché, Hook."

"Yes, I know," he said, maneuvering the bottle to his teeth, ripping the cap off and spitting it out. He suddenly was reminded of Emma. She had teased him about how he opened his rum bottle. Killian's insides chilled. Ignoring it he took several long gulps of rum. "But what can I say? I'm a pirate of simple tastes."

"Enough with the chatter—I think its high time we start this game." Pan replied. "Shall we?"

Killian tensed as Pan's dark gaze moved to Neal.

"Take him to the stone," he commanded to the Lost Boys. They knelt besides Neal and began unshackling him from the post.

"No!" Neal protested. "Pan—stop! This is a mistake!"

"No, I believe I'm making the first smart move all day actually." He gave him a self-satisfied smirk. "You've been more trouble than you're worth Baelfire—always have been. And with your death, I can finally seal Henry's fate to me. A fatherless child in need of a strong, commanding figure in his life."

"Please, wait!" Neal pleas fell on deaf ears. But it was all Killian could hear.

"Pan, stop!" Killian demanded.

Pan shot him a surprised look. "And why should I, Hook?"

"We've got history you and I." He started, his heart racing.

Pan held up his hand coolly, the Lost Boys stopped mid-track towards the stone, Neal kneeled on the ground, helpless but angry.

Killian looked away from the man held captive and knew what he had to do. He had to save Neal. He had to do this for Emma—for her family. He would never be what she needed. But Neal could be, if given the chance. It was time Captain Hook removed himself from Emma Swan's life.

"We have enough history to fill a story, Pan. And frankly, I grow weary of these games of yours."

"What are you saying Hook?" Pan asked curiously.

He took a steadying breath. "I think you know what I am saying."

A loud, unspeakable silence filled the air.

"Kill you?" Pan asked heavily, eyes brightening. "I may still have some use for you, Captain. We made a good team once."

He snorted and smiled drily up at him. "Whatever it is, the answer is no. The answer will always be no for that matter." He said coldly. "So you might as well just get on with it because I will never be a friend of yours again, Pan. You and I both know it. That is unless you're afraid…"

"Afraid?" Pan snapped.

"Yes… afraid of what killing me may mean to you." His own eyes were hard, his voice edged with the challenge. "Peter Pan killing the nefarious Captain Hook. Or are you afraid of letting our story end?"

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Then prove you. C'mon, what do you have to lose? Aside from a dashing, trouble-stirring pirate?"

Pan glanced over his shoulders to his Lost Boys. They nodded and returned Neal to the post, shackling him back up and now moving to Hook's side, unshackling him and bringing him to his feet.

"You're perfectly right, Hook." Pan said. "I'm ready to end our story—you and I. It's been a long time coming." His smiled cruelly. "I'm fearless and you can be seen as my weakness by some—and I can't have that now can I? And if I kill you then my legend will be unstoppable." Pan removed the hook from his other pocket. "Only fair that I should let you die with a little dignity."

Killian felt the familiar snap of his hook returned to his wrist and he nodded appreciatively to him.

"Hook? Man—what are you doing? This isn't right!" Neal shouted from behind him as he was drug to the rock.

Killian was shackled once more, his hands above his head, his knees on the damp earth. He caught his breath, his blood thundered in his ears, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if he'd just made an enormous error in judgment. Then he saw Emma's smile and felt her kiss against his lips from memory, and knew he was making the right choice.

"I'm giving you some time, Neal." Killian said with a soft, unafraid smile.

"Hook—don't do this." Neal pleaded, his voice wavering.

"The choices were limited Neal—and fortunately for you, you have more to live for than I." Killian abruptly felt his chained hands being wrenched upwards as the Lost Boys secured him to the rock.

Neal's eyes saddened and he bowed his head, and then suddenly he yanked on his chains, fighting his bonds. Killian watched the raw display of emotion and his throat tightened.

"It's all right, lad. You and I both know I deserved this."

"That's bullshit, Hook. Pan's the one who deserves this—not you! Don't give him what he wants!"

Pan moved before him now, his features changing into a darkness Killian rarely ever saw. Pan would be his end. He always knew it. Death had never been far from his side, not since his brother's death, and then Mila's. He had embraced the possibility long ago. It just took awhile for death to finally reach his shores.

Killian saw the jungle darken and the fire burn out. The Lost Boys stood, gathering at all corners, brandishing their weapons. The only sounds now were of Neal's feeble attempts at freedom. Pan's dark magic flowed over him like a black mist, summoning his power. Not long now, he thought numbly.

With a self-deprecating smile, Killian glanced over his shoulder once last time to Neal. "Be good to that son of yours, Baelfire. Don't let him become a Lost Boy, eh?"

Neal stilled, his shoulders tensing as he nodded.

"And one more thing," he said, realizing this would be his finals words. "Take care of Emma. Tell her that I—that I…" _Loved her_. He stopped, unable to find the words. Before he had a chance to say more, Pan's shadow suddenly flew forward from the dark jungle. Its gleaming red eyes flashed down at him. He looked up, his hands bound overhead, his body drawn taunt and vulnerable against the cold stone.

The shadow reached out, and with supernatural ability and power, moved into Killian's body. He jerked painfully and let out a cry of agony as he felt the shadow's fingers latch onto his soul. He heard a cry, not from him—from somewhere in the distance, a voice hauntingly familiar to him. But without warning, the shadow—the monster, yanked backwards, ripping his soul from him.

Killian saw his soul glow and then disappear into the shadows grip. This is what death felt like, he thought in a fog. And with one last, choking breath, he let himself succumb to the darkness.

_**TBC**_


	5. It Ends

**This chapter was beyond difficult to write. I just had to finish it though. So forgive any typos- I was too exhausted to edit much. Enjoy! Please comment! **

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**Chapter 5: It Ends**

Emma moved forward on the trial leading to Pan camp. They finally found Pan's camp, with the helpful tip from Felix earlier as he pointed on the map where he was located. Now they were exactly where they needed to be. And they could've been there sooner if Pan hadn't taken Hook from her. Her stomach twisted angrily at the thought.

David told her what happened, before he was knocked out. Pan had believed Hook was an unfair advantage in their game and he decided to remove her player from the board. At first Emma was devastated by the loss. After everything her and Killian had gone through, she believed he would be the one to take her to Henry—to fight with her as they defeated Pan together.

Now everything had changed. And she was furious, refusing to give into the painful stab of her heart at losing him too. Pan kept taking people she cared about and it had to stop. Emma didn't dwell on the thought for long as they made their way through the jungle.

"What's the plan when we get there?" Mary-Margret asked behind her on the jungle trail.

"Kill Pan. Get Henry and Hook back." Emma said.

"Good plan," Regina said in dangerous agreement.

"Okay—but do we have an escape plan or a backup one if we don't kill Pan?" Mary-Margret asked.

Emma ignored the tone of concern in her mother's voice. "No—because we won't fail. Pan dies. And I'll make sure of it this time."

"Emma…" Mary-Margret began.

"No," she cut her off. "Stop—I'm done playing his game. It's time to end this and I'll do whatever it takes. Hook was the final straw. You or David could be next for all I know. He's already taken too much."

"I wouldn't say Hook was much," Regina drawled.

Emma spun on her heel, unable to control the burst of anger coursing through her. "Hook got us this far, didn't he? Without his help we wouldn't even be this close to Pan. And you know it."

Regina's eyes widened in fearful surprise.

"You're right, Emma." David said, laying a calming hand on her shoulder. "Hook has been more helpful than any of us imagined."

Emma unlocked her jaw, her anger dissipating slightly.

"We'll get him back—both of them," David reassured.

She looked at her father mildly surprised. "Since when have you cared about Hook's safety?"

He shrugged, "Since he saved me from Pan."

She smiled weakly, encouraged by her father's confidence. She trusted her family to help her, yet with Hook—she felt stronger, his mere presence made her feel unstoppable. And safe.

"Wait…" Mary-Margret said, her gaze turning towards the jungle ahead of them. "I think I hear something."

Emma moved carefully, hunkering lowly in the brush. She heard voices and slowly edged forward until she reached a small clearing and saw the camp spread out before her. David and Mary-Margret motioned to her and indicated with their hands to surround the camp. Emma nodded and watched her parents moved expertly into the jungle and out of sight. Regina arched a bow at her, Emma gestured to her and she too moved, a fire burning in her dark eyes, preparing for a fight.

Alone now, Emma stayed low, unsheathing her sword. She took in the layout of the camp, looking for both Henry and Hook, but also Pan. She saw Lost Boys surrounding the outskirts of the camp, all holding their dangerous night-shade weapons. Pan stood in the center before a large, ominous looking black rock. It gleamed in the firelight before her. She wondered what the hell it was doing there and why Pan was standing in front of it.

All of a sudden she saw him. Emma let out a shuddering breath. Neal. He was alive? She stared in disbelief at the man that was shackled to a post, fighting against the chains. She expected to feel a surge of relief—or happiness. It was Neal! It's was Henry's father, alive. But nothing came. Just shock.

"That's bullshit, Hook." Neal suddenly yelled out from where he was chained to the ground. "Pan's the one who deserves this—not you! Don't give him what he wants!"

Her eyes moved from Neal to Pan. Then she saw him and her heart squeezed painfully—Hook, being chained to the rock by the Lost Boys. She felt the surge of relief then. He was still alive. Thank God. She saw a long, bloody gash on the side of Hook's face but he didn't seem to be in pain. She stared at him, searching him, making sure he wasn't injured anywhere else. But she didn't see anything wrong, yet there was a pained expression on his face.

They were both alive—Neal and Hook.

"Be good to that son of yours, Baelfire. Don't let him become a Lost Boy, eh?" Hook said to Neal.

Neal stilled, his shoulders tensing as he nodded. Emma suddenly realized what was happening. Hook was saying his good-byes. He was about to be killed. Pan was going to kill him. _No, no, no…_

"And one more thing," Hook's roughish voice called out. "Take care of Emma. Tell her that I—that I…"

Emma couldn't breathe, waiting for the words, waiting for something she wasn't even sure she was ready to hear—yet desperately wanted to. Emma knew he desired her, wanted her physically, but maybe there had always been more to that. Something he kept hidden from her. She swallowed, because she knew her own truth in that moment. She wanted more than just the roughish pirate that flirted and made her ache with desire. She wanted him because she cared for him. She cared about Captain Hook and it mattered to her what happened to him.

Now seeing him like this— a defeated sadness in his eyes, scared her.

A sudden sound came from behind her. It was if the jungle behind her moved and breathed, parting open like a sea for whatever was about to come over her shoulder. Eyes wide, she saw the shadow emerge, its red eyes flashing as it suddenly flew over her and straight towards Hook. Emma turned in alarm to see Hook's gaze onto the shadow. Her throat constricted, seeing him bound and helpless to the black rock, unable to protect himself.

The evil shadow hovered for a split second, before ripping through Hook's body. A strangled cry came from her when the shadow came back out, gripping onto Hook's soul.

She watched in horror as it absorbed it, and Hook's eyes fading of all life. He slumped forward in his shackles, dead.

"NO!" Emma let out an angry cry, gripping her sword tight and running towards Pan.

Pan turned just in the nick of time and deflected Emma's swinging sword with a wave of his hand, his magic propelling her backwards through the air. David, Mary-Margret, and Regina emerged. Regina threw the first punch as she released a wave of fire around the camp, burning the jungle where the Lost Boys stood. They howled and leapt away from the viciously hot flames.

Mary-Margret's bow fired arrow after arrow at the Lost Boys while David raced forward and slammed his sword down over Neal's chains. Neal stood, grabbed a Lost Boys fallen weapon and began fighting alongside David.

Emma rolled to her side, trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her.

"Hello Swan," cooed Pan tauntingly above her.

She looked up, greeted by the sight of Pan and his dangerous Shadow floating above her.

"What did you do to him?" She asked angrily.

"What do you think?" Pan smiled cruelly. "I finally killed the great Captain Hook!"

Her fingers reached out and grabbed the handle of her sword.

"I've just ensured my legend. And once I kill the rest of you, I will have Henry all to myself. He'll be my greatest creation yet."

"Like hell," Emma breathed and with a sudden thrust she stabbed Pan in the chest with her sword.

He glanced down at her sword, and laughed. "I'm immortal, Emma. You can't kill me with just any sword."

"I will kill you," She retorted, ignoring the fear rippling through her. Yet more determined now then she had ever been. "I'll rip your heart out if I have to, Pan." She jumped back to her feet, withdrawing the sword from his body.

"Not before Henry forgets all about you and his precious family." Pan threatened coldly. Suddenly his shadow reared upwards, and flew into the night sky, taking Pan along with it.

She stood, clutching her useless sword, gritting her teeth furiously. Pan escaped and Henry was taken from her again. But this time, the threat of losing him to Pan felt all too real.

"Emma!" She heard Neal shout. He was battling with the Lost Boys, along with Regina and her parents. All of them were hard in battle. Swords clanking, Regina's magical flames snapping at them like wild creatures, and Lost Boys beginning to come in from all sides.

"Emma—we gotta run for it!" Neal yelled.

She instinctively glanced to the black rock where Hook still lay, shackled, and unmoving.

"I won't leave him here!"

"Emma—wait!" Neal shouted. But before he had a chance to follow, another Lost Boy ran towards him, trapping him in battle.

Without hesitating, Emma swung her sword, and with the force of adrenaline and seething fury, cut the chains around Hook's hands. He slumped limply to the ground, his face ashen, his body still. Emma felt her insides tremble. _No, no, no_… He can't be dead, was her only thought as she dropped her sword and knelt besides him, taking him into her arms. His body felt heavy and loose.

"Wake up, Hook." She breathed. Her hand trembled as she touched the side of his face gently. He was cold. A chill swept through her, realizing then that she was too late. "Damnit, Hook," she seethed, tears choking her. "I can't lose you—not now." Her voice caught as she admitted softly, "I need you."

His handsome face seemed serene and peaceful now, more so than she had ever seen it. He had led a hard life, yet somehow always had the ability to smile after all of it.

He didn't deserve to die this way. He wasn't meant to die here. Her grip tightened around him, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest.

"You promised to help me get my son back," she whispered, unable to stop the trail of tears that raced down her face. She recalled their last intimate moment together and how if she'd known it was their last, she would have held tighter to him, clung longer, kissed forever. Oh God, she thought, remembering how he kissed her forehead with such intimacy, such affection, and tenderness. She wanted him back. Her heart ached, her body physical pained at seeing him this way. Never before had she felt this way for someone other than Henry.

Henry—she remembered with sudden clarity. Emma had saved his life with a kiss once before, maybe she could do it again. She stared down at Hook, her eyes searching his face in fear and longing. She had to try, she told herself and without another thought, she bent and touched her lips to his. His once warm, passionate lips were cold and lifeless against hers. She pulled back instinctively, terrified. She felt her heart beginning to crumble, pulling apart in her chest. A painful groan erupted from her as tears racked her body. He was gone.

"Killian," she whispered against his lips. "Please…"

Emma couldn't give up on him. She knew he would fight for her. He would fight to the very end—after all he was Captain Hook. The character, the villain, that would never stop fighting, never give up. He would go to the ends of the earth to conquer, to defeat, to win. Now she had met the man, the real man who was so much more than the story, then the villain she thought he was.

Remembering their last kiss and how he felt in her arms, strong, powerful, alive, Emma took a deep, steadying breath and kissed him again, this time giving her whole heart. Her tears fell onto his face, her lips pressed into his, closing her eyes tight, feeling like the little girl she once was—scared and alone, trapped inside a library. But then she had found him. Her Captain Hook in a fairy tale, ready to save her. Now it was her turn to save him, just like he had saved her.

All of a sudden a magical force raced through her body and with a rushing sensation, it flew outwards from them and into the jungles of Neverland. Something changed, she felt it. Mary-Margret and David hesitated in their fighting, both of them locking eyes from across the camp, a knowing look of what just happened on their faces. Neal and Regina kept fighting the Lost Boys, unaware of the powerful magic that had just swept past them.

Hope surged through Emma then as she opened her eyes and looked down at him. Killian's form appeared lifeless and still, unchanged. Her kiss could not save him. She could not save him…

She slumped forward, touching her forehead to his, the pain in her heart unbearable.

"Emma…?" asked a gruff voice. She stilled and pulled back to see Killian's eyes blinking open slowly. His beautiful blue eyes met hers as he whispered her name again, this time in surprise.

She gasped. "Killian!?"

His eyes cleared as he stared up at her. "I thought I died… Pan, he…"

She shudder of emotion passed over her face, then she shook her head. "No—he didn't."

"You saved me?" he asked, gazing up at her with a warmth and affection that made her heart swell.

"Yeah," she breathed.

Killian's face broke into a boyish smile. "About bloody time."

Impossibly, Emma smiled, stroking the side of his face, over his jaw.

He reached up and grasped the hand that touched him. His fingers warm and gently caressing. "How did you save me, love?"

She stilled suddenly, realizing what she had done. Emma had given him true love's kiss—the same she had used to save Henry's life. But this time, she used it on him. A panic seized her. Her kiss only had that ability if used on either her son—or her true love. Unable to speak at the realization, she stared down at him, breathless and shocked.

"Emma!" A cry came from behind her. Knocked back to reality, she looked over her shoulder in time to see Mary-Margret clash swords with several angry Lost Boys.

Before Emma had time to process everything, she released Killian and they got to their feet. He straightened to his full height, powerful and strong once more, as if death had never touched him. Emma stared at him, still unable to comprehend what had just happened. His dusty, dirty clothes seemed to only make his appearance that more roughed, and the dangerous glint of battle dancing in his eyes exciting. She watched as he reached down and retrieved her sword. Confidently, he tossed it to her, she snagged it mid-air and moved towards her family, Killian right besides her.

Within minutes, they had managed to draw the Lost Boys back. Hook had punched one across the jaw, disarming him and taking his weapon. David and Neal sent a few more Lost Boys running with their duel sword play, while Mary-Margret slammed her bow into another, sending him flying back into the jungle. Soon, all the Lost Boys tucked tail and ran for the jungle, back to their leader.

"That's right you better run!" Mary-Margret shouted after them.

"Cowards," Regina bit out, but looking pleased.

Emma, panting and feeling momentarily victorious glanced over to Killian. He too was panting, a dancing glint of success in his eyes as he returned her gaze with a broad smile. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. The intimacy of his look had a way of stripping her inner soul naked, as if he knew her better than she knew herself. It unnerved her. It thrilled her.

All of a sudden, she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Neal. Before she could say anything, he reached for her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in for a warm embrace.

"Emma—God, I'm so glad you're alive."

She stiffened, feeling awkward as she returned the hug. "You too."

Unable to stop herself, she looked back towards Killian and swallowed. He looked outright sinister. A bitter darkness blazed in his eyes as his jaw muscle flexed angrily. Emma instantly pulled back from Neal's hug, but his arms stayed secured around her waist.

"How did you survive?" She asked, trying to forget the dangerous look she saw in Killian's eyes. "I thought you died…"

"Me too," he muttered. "But some friends saved me in the Enchanted Forest."

Mary-Margret, David, and Regina joined them.

"Who?" Mary-Margret asked.

"Robin Hood and Mulan."

Mary-Margret beamed excitedly. David smiled warmly at his wife, and wrapped an arm around her.

"They helped me lure Pan's shadow to the Enchanted Forest." Neal explained. "From there I caught a ride back to Neverland. I knew you guys were here. I used some of my dad's old tricks to see where you were." His hands tightened around her, his voice growing serious. "I knew I had to come get you. This place isn't safe. I wasn't about to let Pan get to you or Henry."

Emma stepped away from him. "Pan's already got Henry."

"Yeah, I know. I tried to save him earlier, but Pan stopped me. I've been held captive a couple days now."

"Do you know how to stop him?" David asked Neal. "From what we saw—you've spent time here. You know him. So you must know of a way to kill him.'"

Neal sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Look, the only way I know how to stop him is to immobilize him with squid ink. And I tried that already—it failed."

"Then we try again," David said.

"I vote we get the hell out of here first." Regina said abruptly. "Pan knows we're still here. I think it's a good idea if we don't stick around."

"The Queen has a point," Killian broke in. Emma, unable to stop herself, looked at him. He had gone hunting through the camp and found his leather coat. He shook off remnants of dirt and pulled it on. "Once the Lost Boys regroup, chances are they will be returning and not with a warm welcome."

Emma hesitated. Killian must have sensed this and continued. "We can continue planning Pan's demise later—right now, safety is a priority."

She nodded. "He's right. We should go. It's dark anyway, we should find somewhere to camp for the night."

"I know of a safe place," Neal said. "It's about a mile from here. The caves along this side of the island are usually empty. We'll find something there."

"Great. Let's go." Emma said lamely.

Neal smiled at her, affectionately touching her arm and heading towards the jungle, becoming their new leader. She waited for the rest of the group to follow, knowing Killian would linger behind. As they grew further out of sight, Emma stepped in front of Killian, preventing him from following.

"We need to talk." She said.

He arched an eyebrow at her and smirked coldly. "I already know what you're going to say, love. No need to bother."

"Yeah, and what is that?"

"That I should keep my mouth shut and let you go back to your life with Mr. Prince Perfect there." Killian's dark gaze was unreadable to her. But she sensed his anger in his voice. She braced herself for it.

Did he realize how solid, how powerful, how completely confident he looked? He stood like a warrior, more ready to attack than to defend. He looked like a pirate, more ready to punish than forgive. Like a man more ready to take than ask. As he narrowed his eyes and stepped towards her, she realized that was what she wanted. The strength, the control, and even the damned arrogance.

"I don't want anything to happen to you, Killian." She said it quickly before common sense smothered her words.

He stopped short, rocked more than she could imagine by the breathless sentence. Her concern was a warmth that reached inside his skin and arrowed its way toward his heart. But he wasn't her concern, not anymore—she had more important things to worry about. Like her son and now, her returned lover.

"I didn't ask for your concern, Swan. I can protect myself just fine without you."

It was fascinating to watch her eyes, eyes so full of warmth one moment, turn to ice the next.

"Clearly not," She shot back. "Or have you completely forgotten that I was the one who saved you from Pan?"

"And I won't let that happen again, I can assure you of that." He replied coolly.

"Fine, whatever, Hook. Go to hell- just don't expect me to follow you this time."

He snaked his hook around her wrist and brought her up against his chest. His cool demeanor slipping away. "I don't want your worry, Emma," he murmured. "I want more—much more."

Her eyes flashed hotly. "That was all I was willing to give you, Hook."

"I doubt that, love." He cupped her face in his hand, this is what he needed—if only for a moment. Anything he could get from her. To touch her, challenge her, to forget that her true love had returned and anything he had with her was gone.

Was it fear that roped into her stomach or anticipation? She knew already, somehow after she saved his life, that she belonged with him. But magic had already taken its toll on her and she didn't want to give in to it—not yet. Magic might be able to tell her who she was meant to be with, but it was her heart that she had to trust first. And right now, she didn't know what her heart felt. Only that Killian mattered to her—but so did Neal, and having a real family.

Emma jerked back, untangling herself from his grasp. Unable to say anything, she stepped away from him. His eyes searched her face. And without another word, she left.

_**TBC**_


	6. A Kiss with Consequences

**Chapter 6: A Kiss with Consequences**

Snow fiddled absently with her arrows as she carefully watched Emma from across the cave. The firelight danced over her daughter's beautiful features. She sat in close conversation with Neal, the flames flickering around them. There was a blank, almost detached look in Emma's expression that had Snow feeling anxious. Emma was conflicted. Snow knew it—felt it. And there was nothing she could do. Not that her daughter wanted her comfort, but she couldn't help but want to give it. She loved Emma and seeing her like this was difficult.

"That's the third arrow I've seen you pull apart, hon."

She glanced up and saw Charming standing over her with a knowing smile.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked.

She sighed as he took a seat besides her by her own small camp fire. Snow held his comforting gaze and then gestured towards Emma and Neal with a nod. He followed her gaze and arched a brow. "Yeah? What's wrong with that?"

Snow's eyes widened at him. "What's wrong with that? You know perfectly well what's wrong with that."

He frowned and cautiously looked over his shoulder, making sure no would hear him. "I can take a stab at it—something involving Emma and Hook? And why he's been gathering firewood for the past hour and a half."

Snow gaped. "I knew it! There is something there! There has to be… I mean what happened today doesn't just happen to anyone."

"We don't know if _that_ was really it though, Snow." Charming said uneasily. "We were fighting, there was a lot going on, and we didn't actually see what happened…"

"David! I know a true love's kiss when it happens. And it happened today! With Emma and Hook!"

Alarmed, he grabbed his wife's hand and held tight. "Okay—you're right. I felt it too."

"If you weren't holding my hand right now, I'd punch you."

He chuckled. "I'm sure. Sorry. I just didn't want to jump to any conclusions with those two."

Snow's eyes traveled back to her daughter, concern lining her face. "Did you suspect anything? I mean, Emma used to confide in me about these things but lately… well, she's just been so closed up."

David awkwardly cleared his throat, drawing Snow's immediate gaze.

"What do you know?" She demanded. "Did you see them—or hear them?"

"Uh…" David hesitated and then with a sigh made his confession. "I might have seen them together."

Her mouth fell open. "What did you see?"

"Kissing," he frowned in mild disgust. "Lots of inappropriate kissing and touching." He shifted uncomfortably at the memory, which made Snow eyes move back to Emma once more.

"Did she like it?"

He shrugged, "from where I stood, yeah."

She shook her head, frowning. "Then why is she with Neal right now and not with him?"

David stared at his wife in shock. "Wait—are you actually suggesting Emma should be with Hook? And not Neal? Neal is Henry's father."

"David," Snow shot back, eyes bright with anger. "I know that. I know what this means having Neal back. And I'm glad he is. But what about Emma—we both know exactly what happened between her and Hook. A true love's kiss is not something you can just ignore."

"And I'm not saying that…"

"Then what are you saying?" She demanded. "That Emma chooses Neal over true love?!"

He gave her a firm, undeniable frown. "Will you let me talk?"

She grumbled, angrily picking apart her bow, intending to fix them later.

"Thank you," David said, his tone softening. "Now—what I was going to say was that this decision is up to Emma. True love or not, she has to make this choice on her own, without magic telling her what to do."

Snow shook her head in protest. "But David—ignoring this could be the biggest mistake she ever makes!"

"And she has to make it for herself, Snow."

"You and I both know how powerful true love's kiss is." She retorted. "Look at what it did today! Hook was dead—we both saw Pan take his soul."

"Yeah, we did." He gazed into the fire. "And that was pretty horrifying."

His somber demeanor made Snow hesitate. It was hard for both of them seeing the causalities of war and watching someone close to them or even just a fellow fighter die, it could be devastating. And there were no exceptions for Hook. He had become part of their group, part of their team over the course of their time spent in Neverland. His advice and presence had saved them time and probably their lives on countless occasions. There were no doubts in either of their minds that Hook was a good man. He didn't deserve to be casted in the light of a villain—at least at the moment.

"Pan resorts to dark magic like Regina or Gold—and we know from experience that true love's magic is more powerful than any of them or their dark powers." Snow explained carefully. "This is just another example of how powerful love can be." Her voice softened, hollowing. "And if she ignores how she feels for Hook, who knows what could happen."

"Do you think Hook knows that's what saved him?" David asked.

"No," Snow said with a shake of her head. "If he knew, he'd either be dueling Neal for even being near Emma or sauntering around here like the cat that caught the canary."

David gave a short laugh. "That's true. Sounds like something he'd do."

Snow continued to stare at the couple at the end of the cave. Recognizing her concern, David tugged at her hand, drawing her attention away.

"Honey," he drawled out. "We can't make this choice for her, you have to understand that."

"I do." She hesitated then admitted. "I just don't want to."

He drew her hand into his lap and wrapped his arm over her shoulders, bringing her into his embrace. Kissing the top of her head, he whispered. "She'll do what's right. We can trust that."

"That's what I'm afraid of Charming." She replied. "She'll choose Henry's happiness over her own."

He sighed, feeling the truth in her words. "We'll just have to wait and find out."

Snow finally returned his embrace, and sunk into his warmth, allowing the comforting gesture.

* * *

Killian paced ruthlessly up and down the beach like a man possessed. The cool yet sultry night air could not quell his irate thoughts. Usually a night like this, he'd be on his ship, drinking in the sights of blue sea and the black sky above. Marvel at its beauty—it's wonder—it's magic. Instead, Killian had preoccupied his time by gathering firewood. And he now had enough to create a smoke signal large enough for the Enchanted Forest to see. He refused to go back to the cave. Not yet—not possibly the rest of the night. He couldn't stand the thought of walking in there only to see Emma sitting cozily with her newly alive lover. His mind rebelled and his heart squeezed painfully as if gripped in a coiled sail.

His fist clenched and twisted around his hook.

"Good evening, Captain." A sharp, regal voice drawled behind him.

He didn't bother looking up as he stopped short on the shore, water brushing the tips of his leather boots. "Regina… I'd say it's a pleasure, but why lie for formality's sake?"

She ignored his jab as she strolled over to him. "I have a bone to pick with you, Captain."

"Oh really? Well if you can see—I'm quite busy at the moment."

"Yes, brooding seems to be your specialty these days."

Regina always had a motive and he realized then that getting her to flee would require conversation. He gritted his teeth. "What do you want Regina?"

Her dark gaze searched his face, as though attempting to find the truth without him actually speaking. "I want to know how you could have possibly survived Pan's attack."

He smiled sheepishly, feeling weary of this conversation already. "Haven't you heard? Swan saved me—our almighty savior."

Her eyes narrowed into hard slits. "I highly doubt that." Her expression was rigid and unforgiving, just as her tone. "I saw Pan rip your soul out Hook. I recognize the magic, I do it myself when I take hearts. There is no way you could have survived that unless another magic interfered."

"I am not magical, my Queen. Nor will I ever be." He retorted dryly. "I'm just a lowly ol'pirate. Nothing more."

"Maybe you might not be, but Emma is. She must have used magic on you... because you shouldn't even be breathing right now."

He stilled. Emma refused to use magic since she stepped on this island. She wouldn't use it on him—she probably didn't even know how to. But what if she did? That can be the only explanation for his survival. Magic. He knew that magic came at a dear and costly price. And sometimes that meant life and death. What if it was Emma's life that paid for sparing his? His insides froze like icy sea waters.

"Do you remember anything she did?" Regina questioned.

He hesitated. "I'm not sure…"

"Well—think!"

"I am!" He shot back. "Bloody hell woman, has anyone ever told you that patience is a virtue."

"This coming from a man who fears his own ticking clock?"

"In the fairy tale," he muttered.

"I want to know how Emma returned your soul. What spell she used…" Regina trailed off, her face pinched in frustration.

"Look all I know is that one minute I was alive—the next, I was not."

"Yes, but there has to be more! Something you're not seeing…!" Regina pushed back, refusing to give up on this.

Sighing, Killian racked his mind, unfortunately recalling the details of this day's events seemed less than appealing. But if Regina was right and Emma used magic to save him, he'd be sure no harm came to her, even if she was no longer his to protect.

"I remember Pan's shadow. I remember hearing a voice cry out…"

"That was Emma." Regina stated flatly.

He shot her a surprised look. "That scream was from Swan?"

"Hook you're wasting my time." She said irritably.

That cry of terror, of protest, came from Emma? Still reeling from this knowledge, Killian continued on, his blood thundering in his ears. "I then…" He could barely say the word.

"Died," Regina filled in coldly.

He frowned disapprovingly. "Yes, please be considerate about my feelings why don't you?" He said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yes, I died. When later I awoke, Swan held me in her arms and I was—well, awake. So between my death and her kneeling over me, it's a rather wide gap of missing information."

Her hard face brightened, a clarity dawning. "I can help you remember—I can use magic and…"

He stepped back instinctively. "Sorry darling, but I don't do well playing with magic. You know that saying about fire, right?"

"It's not the same thing."

"Oh yes it is. So please, if you would go away—I've told you all I can."

Regina snarled angrily. "See here, Hook—the fact that you are talking and breathing right now tells me only one thing—that Emma is powerful. Or whatever she used or did is strong enough to pull you out of death's clutches. And if whatever magic she used that is stronger than death, please tell me! Because the only thing I can think of that may possibly save you're sorry, miserable existence is true love's kiss."

"True love's kiss?" He scoffed at the idea. "I was under the impression that such a thing came from the fairy tales from your land Regina."

"All tales come from somewhere, Hook. And no—true love's kiss is real. I've had personal experience dealing with it unfortunately." She snapped. "So…"she drawled out. "Did she kiss you or not? The fact that I'm even asking this seems ridiculous, but it's the only explanation I can possibly fathom."

Memories of their wonderfully delicious kisses came hurtling back at him. All scorching, and all too achingly short in his opinion. He would cherish his brief moments with Emma until his dying day. He didn't plan on forgetting a single second of their shared kisses.

Without warning, another kiss came to mind. It was so sudden, he stiffened. This kiss was different—it was desperate, and sad. He could feel the warmth of Emma's lips, he knew it was her, even though he couldn't see her. He felt a wetness drip over his cheek, almost like a raindrop or… tear. His entire body tensed as his heart gave a hard thud into his chest. He could hear her voice now, soft and pleading as she whispered his name. Then he opened his eyes and there she was, staring down at him in surprise and relief.

"It can't be…" he whispered hoarsely.

"What? What can't be?" Regina asked, her own tone softening, seeing the tension on his face. Then she knew, reading it from his expression. "She kissed you?!"

Confused, Killian glanced back to Regina, who gave him a surprised gasp. "Wow—I didn't see that one coming."

"Neither I," he whispered, touching his lips in shock.

"Well, as fascinating as Emma's love life is, it only tells me that she didn't use magic on you."

"How is that not considered magical?" Killian asked in alarm.

"True love's kiss isn't dark magic, Hook. It's a magic that comes from love—powerful, all consuming, terrifyingly, disgustingly sweet love. This kind doesn't come with a price."

"So what does this true love's kiss mean?"

She shrugged, "Nothing if don't want it to." She smirked, seeing his fear. "Or everything. It depends on those who kissed. Like I said—doesn't come with a price, but she did save your life with it. So there's that."

"Does she know that's how she saved me?"

"More than likely." She smiled gleefully at his pain. "Obviously she kept this little secret to herself. Maybe she doesn't want you to be her true love, Hook. After all she has Neal to think about now."

Her cruel words cut across him like a sharp, prodding blade. Feeling reckless, he strode dangerously up to Regina, drawing his hook beneath her chin. "Leave…" He seethed between clenched teeth.

Alarmed then angry, Regina snapped her chin back and strode away. She hesitated on the beach shores and glanced back at him one last time. "I still believe what I said to you before, Hook—villains don't get happy endings. Remember that when you see her again."

With that, Regina stalked off, returning to the jungle.

**_TBC_**


	7. Wicked Ways

****Author warning: This chapter's hot. Comments are welcomed & loved! Now ENJOY! **

* * *

**Chapter 7: Wicked Ways**

Emma told herself once more that this was a bad idea but her feet marched forward anyway. David told her that Hook had left a while ago to get firewood and she discretely mentioned something about needing air and some time to think on her own. He smiled he usual reassuring smile while Snow gazed up at her anxiously. Emma felt a quick jab of guilt punch her then. Mary-Margret deserved more than the cold shoulder that she had been giving her of late. Still—Emma wanted to figure this out on her own and involving her parents was weird. Just like she felt awkward about watching them make out, she was sure they would feel strange too giving her man advice.

Neal and Regina, along with her parents bunked down for the evening. All of whom were looking forward to sleeping somewhere less exposed to Pan's boys and also the jungle elements. Neal was out fast. She contributed it to the fact that he was held captive for a couple days and safely sleeping anywhere was risky for him. But Emma couldn't sleep, even if she wanted to.

Emma had carefully avoided any conversation about the possibility of Neal and her. He seemed to take the hint, probably assuming she was too nervous about Henry. Neal, if anything, was adept to sensing emotions and could tell when she wasn't ready to talk about something. Neither of them had talked about what happened the day he fell into the portal. Both discussed saving Henry and Pan's devious tactics on preventing them. Neal was knowledgeable about Pan which was helpful. But so was Hook.

Hook. The bastard, she thought angrily. After saving his life, what does he do-? Piss her off even further and then runs into the jungle with his tail tucked between his legs. Irritated, conflicted and confused as hell, Emma knew she had to choice but to tell Killian the truth. After everything— he deserved more from her than silence or lies. She would tell him what really happened today. How she saved his life with the kiss.

Anticipation curling in her stomach, she headed down the jungle path and to the secluded beach shores. She came upon Hook quicker than expected. Her breath caught at the sight of him. He had stripped his tall, lean build of his coat and vest. His long sleeved pirate shirt unbuttoned at the neck and hanging loose along his shoulders exposing the black hair of his chest. His dark features added to his mystery and his masculine sensuality. When will he ever not have the ability to make her heart jump inside her chest?

Emma, of all people, should be immune to him, having known her share of criminals in the course of her bails bounds work. Yet, unfortunately, she was far from immune. Of all the people she's come across, why must it be the notorious, legendary pirate captain who made her blush and feel weak in the knees like some simpering school girl? Because, she thought irritably, he was the legendary pirate. Emma had always prided herself on being too smart for such infatuations, with the exception of Neal long ago, and even with him she didn't burn and ache the way she had with Killian.

As she strode towards him, determined to have this talk, she couldn't ignore the warmth spreading all over her body. Studying him from behind, she realized then how comfortable and at home he seemed standing on the beach shores. Almost as comfortable as the decks of a ship. She remembered him from the Jolly Roger, so confident, cool-headed and arrogant. Proud of his ship and his abilities as a captain. Damn he was temptingly handsome, when he wasn't full of himself, she thought with a purse of her lips. At just that moment, he glanced her way and his gaze caught hers. For a moment his eyes were rich and unfathomable, and she felt the force of his gaze all over her body—from her brow, across her lips, over her breasts and hips. A sudden, all too painfully familiar heat flashed over her, flaming a blush. A slow, knowing grin curved the pirate's mouth. This man, Emma decided, was a danger to all women, especially her.

She took a deep, comforting breath. She needed to talk with him and after everything that happened—now was the only time she had.

Killian stood at the shoreline, returning his gaze upwards towards the heavenly sky which sparkled with a curtain of stars. Emma briefly glanced up in admiration.

"Quite a sight, isn't Swan?" Killian said.

"Yeah—it's something." She grumbled, still feeling the lingering effects of her telling blush on her cheeks.

"The one thing I noticed about your land is the lack of stars. Too much light—too many distractions."

Emma moved forward, standing next to him. She caught his scent on the night air. It was masculine, hot, and salty as though he'd spent all day on board the Jolly Roger and not in the dense jungle of Neverland. Though Emma saw the dark circles beneath his eyes, the pressed lips and tense lines over his stumbled features. He was utterly breath-taking to her and damnit if she could get over how handsome he was already.

"We have plenty of that where I come from. Distractions." She said softly.

"Yes, and here as well."  
_Like you_, she wanted to say, instead she frowned. "We need to talk."

He smirked, still not looking at her. "Yes, I suspected as much. One doesn't seek out a pirate's company after hours unless to duel, talk business or…"

His blue eyes were stunning as he finally looked at her. A haunting sea blue and shining with mischief. Yet underneath, she saw a storm brewing and it looked angry.

"Trust me, this is just business. I just wanna talk." She explained.

"I believe there were a few things you left out about saving me this afternoon."

Her eyes widened, shocked. "How do you know?"

His jaw clenched down irritably. "Regina informed me. Well, she helped remind me of what you did. She was quite curious about how you rescued my soul from the pits of Pan's shadow. It was then I pieced it together."

Emma swallowed, seeing the dark intensity in Killian's eyes. This was not how she imagined him finding out. But she should've known better. Nothing ever goes according to plan when it came to this stuff—magical lands, villains and heroes! She didn't know how any of it worked, yet here she was—in love with a character from one of those fairy tales. Her heart stilled instantly. Oh God. Love? A horrible chill seized her. The kiss was right after all? Was Killian her true love?

Unable to look at him, overwhelmed with crazy emotions, she began to pace along the shoreline, unaware of the water lapping at her boots. After seeing Neal alive, Emma felt the truth—knew it like a saber to the gut. She didn't love him. She did once, a long time ago. But she had changed. So much had happened and she didn't want the same things she once did. Apparently, she thought, in surprise, what she wanted was a snarky, arrogant ass of a pirate who was far too attractive for his own good.

"So? Now what…?" She asked him anxiously.

He cocked a cool eyebrow. "Are you really asking me that question, love?"

She stopped. "What? I don't know—I'm asking what I should do? What _we_, should do." She raked her hand through her thick blond hair, helpless and frustrated. "Look, I've spent enough time around magic to know that when it does something, it's for a reason and it's powerful. The last time I used true love's kiss was to wake Henry up when he was under a sleeping curse."

He smirked. "I wasn't asleep, love."

"I know. You were dead!" She glared at him. "And don't even get me started at how mad I am at you giving up against, Pan."

He let out a harsh laugh. "I bloody well did not give up."

"You did," she bit out. "I saw it."

He strode forward as though to grab her, but hesitated, as though unsure of himself and what touching her again could do. "I did what I thought was right. I saw that your love had returned. I knew that you would have your family back the moment Henry was rescued." He'd never looked wilder. Or more alone. A sudden pang tore at her heart. What he must have gone through—facing what he believed to be the truth, that she would return to Neal once discovering he was alive.

He sacrificed himself to give her the choice of a real family. Neal and Henry.

"You did that for me?" She asked her voice barely audible.

He nodded grimly. "Aye love, I did. After all, who am I to want you for myself? I'm a drunk and a pirate. What do I have to offer you?"

"You could've fought." She breathed.

"I was under the notion I would have lost that battle. You told me yourself you wanted a family. And I'm not exactly what you call father material." She could say the same thing about Neal, but held her tongue.

"So after everything that happened—after everything you've done, you still don't feel good enough for me, Hook?" Her tone was a challenge, which made him tense.

"Emma…" He began warningly.

"Just admit it, Hook." She seethed out, "you were scared! And you ran. You ran from your chance of happiness."  
"Are you suggesting you're my happiness, darling?" he stepped forward, closer to her now. "That you can save me from my wicked ways?"

"I'm just saying that you should've fought a little harder. " She murmured. "And that seeing you shackled to that rock and get killed was not something I ever want to see again."

A small, curious smile touched the corner of his mouth. His gaze warming as he looked down at her. "Is that a threat?"

She held back her own smile. "Yeah, it is. If you plan on dying, let me know first—I'll kill you myself."

"Really? How very generous of you."

"You have no idea."

"Are you flirting with me, Swan?"

Her breath caught in her throat as Killian reached out, clasping his hand around her neck, his thumb resting on the veins where her pulse beat madly. He lowered his voice to a rumble as he added, "I must say, it's quiet…" his warm breath whispered over her lips, which warmed with wanting. "Enticing."

Emma, waiting for his kiss, felt an unexpected shift as Killian reached beneath her and hoisted her into his arms.

"What are you doing?" she demanded as he confidently strode towards the jungle tree line. It was then she saw the makeshift bed he had made beneath a shelter of trees with his long jacket laid out and his vest rolled up as a pillow.

Alarmed, and with a tiny thrill of anticipation, she asked. "Wh-what is this?"

"Our bed."

"What?!"

He gave her the most charming, treacherous grins on the planet.

"You planned this?" she asked incredulously.

"What can I say?" He drew her head close until his lips were an inch away from hers, still smiling like the rogue he was. "I know when women want me, Emma. And you my darling, stubborn, hard-headed beauty, are no exception."

Before she had time to retort, his mouth was on hers, hard and purposeful. His whiskers scraped her skin as he took her moth wholly, thoroughly, the way a man bent on seduction ought to. She tried to gather her thoughts, focus on her anger, but damnit—he was good. His mouth tantalized hers to open, then his tongue swept inside with slow, deliberate strokes, that made the fire in her body burn.

It was a wicked kiss, the kind that manipulated her to respond just as passionately. But she refused to be tricked so easily. She yanked her head back and with an angry growl, "put me down."

"As you wish." And he dropped her. Butt firmly landing on soft sand, but hard earth.

She winced and snapped a fierce glare up at him. "You didn't have to drop me."

"You didn't have to lie to me," he responded coolly.

Taken aback, Emma frowned. "I didn't lie."

"You led me to believe something that wasn't truthful. I believe that's called lying."

She gritted her teeth. "I was confused ok? I didn't know what to do. I still don't!"

"Well, at least there, I can be of some assistance."

Emma watched as he pulled his shirt from his trousers and slowly over his head, revealing the finely toned, rippling display of muscles. His lean, slightly scarred belly… his navel ringed with dark hair… his beautifully bronzed skin. She wasn't prepared for the sight of him shirtless. When his gaze returned to hers, it was the same a wolf gives a rabbit before devouring it. Hot, piercing excitement coiled inside her. Dear God this man was more handsome with his shirt off, she thought, bringing yet another blush to her cheeks. What did he look like completely naked?

She shouldn't even be here, she thought suddenly. She should be safely tucked away in the cave with her parents and sleeping! Not under the night sky, on a beach, with a sexy pirate more than willing to ease her worries and concerns for an evening. Emma stiffened. Oh yeah, she knew why she was here. It was because of him. Killian, the pirate who kissed like a god, who made her feel things she'd never felt in her life. She wasn't mad, she was just tired of fighting, tired of craving his hands on her and having to resist her desires. And it was past the point of no return already. True love's kiss changed everything between them, they just weren't ready to acknowledge the full truth of it yet.

All they knew was that they needed each other. That they wanted each other and tonight had been coming since the first day he kissed her on his ship.

Keeping his heated gaze on her, he unstrapped his sword and belt, tossing them onto the sand. He kicked off his boots, slowly untying the knot of his trousers, causing her lungs to gasp for oxygen.

"Lay down, love." He said thickly.

She didn't know why, but she obeyed his command. She removed her own sword belt and shoes. His eyes brightened with excitement seeing her go willing to his makeshift bed. Heart pounding, limbs trembling, she watched as he kneeled down into the sand before her, a need reflecting in his blue eyes. He moved forward, his limbs moving like that of a tiger stalking its prey. She shivered, watching him. He slid a knee between her legs, parting them easily and bringing his thick, heavily muscled thigh into her warmth. She gasped. He smiled and without waiting, took her parted lips to his once more. She didn't have to resist this time.

Unshackled from her struggle against him, Emma finally gave in. She wanted him—this. Always. Forever. With a groan she tightened her arms about his neck, fierce and needy. He shifted, slanting his mouth over hers, taking his full of her lips. She felt the hunger in his kiss, the tense need in his muscles as she ran her hands down the course of his back, feeling the warm skin beneath her fingers. She felt the cool steel of his hook over her belly, carefully drawing her shift upwards.

He pulled back just enough to search her face. "Are you sure you want this, love? Once I start—it'll be hard to change course, if you understand me."

"I want this—I want you," she blurted out in a breathless pant.

Under his suddenly triumphant gaze, she thought better of her words. But before she had a chance to rebuttal, he smiled wolfishly down at her. "I won't let you take back those words. Not tonight, Emma."

Heart slamming into her chest, Killian kissed her once more with a renewed passion, scorching her brain of any more doubts. Within seconds, her shirt and jeans were off, leaving her with nothing but her bra and panties. He smiled curiously at this, apparently his first time seeing such scandalous attire. His heated gaze made her feel bold and with a flick of her wrist, she unsnapped her bra and tossed it besides his fallen sword belt. Killian's curiosity vanished, replaced by desperation as he skimmed a hand up her body to mold her naked breast, teasing the nipple until she moaned with pleasure. His calloused palm felt rough yet perfect against her soft skin.

His mouth swept to her opposite breast, sucking hard until she was wriggling with arousal beneath him. Feeling anxious with her own need, Emma ran her hands over the body she had dreamt about for several nights now. He was powerfully built and his skin was incredible to touch. Soft, yet hard. Just like the man himself. She slipped her legs outwards, then around his waist, drawing him to her. His arousal was thick and hard between her open legs. A thrill coursed through her, tightening herself around him.

He let out a strangled groan.

"I wanted to take my time with you, love." He whispered against her neck, laying wet, hot kisses there.

"Too bad." She murmured, arching her back into him, loving the feel of his heavy body on top of hers.

He nuzzled her cheek, his mouth sought hers, taking it with a savage eagerness that increased her need. God, he could kiss! She moaned softly into his mouth, returning the feral kiss with her own inhibition. He opened her mouth once more with his tongue, and was greeted by Emma's tongue slipping into his instead. He hummed approvingly, sucking playfully on her tongue as she tasted him.

She was burning up all over. Every part of her body felt deliciously hot and achy. He did this to her. He made her want this so bad that she was willing to throw all caution to the wind to get it. Quickly sliding out of her panties, and without thinking, Emma maneuvered herself beneath him and with a powerful thrust of her hips, he flipped onto his back. He let out a surprised grunt, but when she straddled his hips, he growled.

"I always knew you liked to ride me, Emma—but this… this takes a whole new meaning to the term, eh?"

Her lips twitched as if suppressing a grin. Then she moved. It was a simple motion, like rocking on a ship, but she used her hips instead over his hard, thick arousal. She rubbed herself over his trousers, feeling him press firmly against her. She let out a gasp when his hand found her waist and guided her rocking motions, arousing them both to a fine peek. Grinding and humping in a slow, seductive rhythm.

She felt herself grow wet and sensitive, ready for more—much more. HewHer breasts ached with the same want, and as if Killian sensed her desires, left his hook handed on her waist and his other hand to her breasts, grasping her firmly, desperately.

She gazed down at him. His eyes were closed tight, as though holding back his own rampant wants, and his face lined with desire. She reached down and touched his face, drawing his mouth to hers with ease. They kissed and kissed. It was deep, brutal, and hard. Both wanting one another with such a force it rocked them equally.

Her anticipation had grown fast and hot. She wanted him inside her, needed it. Quickly she loosed his pants and attempted to remove them. But Killian was faster. He yanked his lips back, a devilish glint in his eyes and out-maneuvered her, rolling her back down to his jacket, letting him be on top. Without a word, he pulled off his pants, and they were both naked. She sighed in content when she felt his naked form press into hers, sliding and soft. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, filling her lungs.

Killian wrapped his arms around her and slipped his hand between them, reaching until he found her womanly delta. With expert skill, he slipped his fingers over her wetness, stimulating the already oversensitive nerves there. She let out a soft gasp, arching upwards to meet his incredible fingers.

He smiled, pressing his lips into the side of her breast. "Bloody hell, Emma—you are beautiful."

Her heart melted and her body throbbed. But she wasn't the only one throbbing. His long, thick manhood pressed into her thigh. She reached for him, grabbing a hold of its girth and smiling. No wonder he was so arrogant. He had this between his muscled thighs. Killian wasn't smiling anymore though, as Emma heard him shudder and groan as she tugged on his towering erection.

Suddenly his lips sought hers out once more, brutally hungry. She matched his need with her own. They kissed, teeth clashing, tongues dancing. She spread her legs instinctively, drawing him inwards, until he touched the center of her. She felt the tip of him and nearly came. She had burned for him for so long, denying herself, and her heart. Now she had him and there was no turning back. Once this ship sailed, she would be lost forever. And thank God, she thought, holding him tight against her. His beautiful face staring down at her with harsh need, yet a tenderness—a gentleness. He was ready to give her anything, she could see it reflected in the blues of his eyes. She saw his heart.

They held their breath and within that moment, he entered her. He filled her completely. The slick friction of him inside her began to warm her, and push her towards the edge of oblivion.

He held himself over her, his eyes the blue of the sky and the stormy sea. He thrust deeper, harder, making her ache for more—more! Finally she had him, tasted him, felt him. She had him, but it was not enough… wanting him, but too much. She tightened her legs around him, drawing him closer until he thrusted up to the hilt inside her.

"Killian…" She whispered frantically, need driving out all thought but of him. He groaned, desire flaring higher in his face as he increased his tempo. He drove into her now as if he feared losing her, and she dug her fingernails into his arms to ride out the storm that he showed her. She felt as if he reached to the very heart of her, each thrust deeper and further, building the tension until she was crying out. Emma felt herself dive off the edge and slam into the ocean, her body jerking and tensing around him as wave after glorious wave came crashing around her.

"Emma… darling, my love." He moaned, burying deeper inside her until he too found his release, letting out a hoarse, strangled cry. Jerky shudders wracked his body, his breathing labored, and limbs loosening, Killian stared down at her, amazed and sweetly exhausted.

Legs unfurling from his hips, she slid them down, bringing him down on top of her. He stayed like that for only a brief moment until rolling to his side, their legs tangling, their chests heaving. Emma, feeling reckless from their love making, curled up against him, allowing him to see this vulnerable side of her—the need to be held. And he did. He wrapped his long, thick arms around her body, bringing her up against his side, letting her head lie on his chest.

Killian let out a long, satisfied breath. The warm night air tickled their exposed skin. Emma's gaze moved to the jungle and then the night sky. Stars and moonlight shone down on them.

"I've never made love outside before," she commented. "Or on a beach."

She felt his smile against her forehead as he kissed her there. "My ship's captain's quarters are rather comfortable as well. I'll be sure to show them to you once we're back on the Jolly Roger."

She smiled but said dryly, "Such a romantic."

"Only with you, love."

She stilled. Her voice a whisper as she said, "This changes everything."

Killian lifted her chin upwards with his hook, their eyes meeting. "Don't think about it now, beautiful. Let's just enjoy the rest of the evening before we go back to hating each other."

Emma couldn't stop the smile from her lips. "I don't hate you. I just don't like you sometimes."

He chuckled. "And I you. You have a pension for stubbornness that I find maddening."

"And you're an arrogant ass…"

Killian silenced her with a kiss. "Enough fighting, eh," he whispered. "Truce—at least for the rest of the night?"

Feeling unusually safe and the dregs of downiness affecting her good sense, Emma sighed. "Fine, but if you stab me with your hook, the deals off."

He chuckled, "Deal."

Comforted and feeling protected, Emma fell into a deep, easy sleep. It was the first time she truly rested since she arrived in Neverland.

_**TBC**_


End file.
